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DELIA  BLANCHFLOWER 


HE    SEEMED    PRK-OCCUPIED    AND    WORRIED; 
AND  SHE  FED  HIM  BEFORE  QUESTIONING  HIM 


DELIA 
BLANCHFLOWER 


BY 
MRS.  HUMPHRY  WARD 

Author  "Lady  Rose's  Daughter,"  etc 


Frontispiece  in  color  by 
WILL  FOSTER 


HEARST'S     INTERNATIONAL     LIBRARY     CO. 
NEW  YORK  1914 


Copjn-igbt,  1914,  by 
Heaest's  International  Libeasy  Co.,  INO. 


Dan 


DELIA  BLANCHFLOWER 


DELIA  BLANCHFLOWER 

Chapter  I 

'^ATOT  a  Britisher  to  be  seen  —  or  scarcely!  Well, 
-i.^  I  can  do  without  'em  for  a  bit!  " 
And  the  Englishman  whose  mind  shaped  these  words 
continued  his  leisurely  survey  of  the  crowded  salon  of  a 
Tyrolese  hotel,  into  which  a  dining-room  like  a  college 
hall  had  just  emptied  itself  after  the  mid-day  meal. 
Meanwhile  a  German,  sitting  near,  seeing  that  his  tall 
neighbour  had  been  searching  his  pockets  in  vain  for 
matches,  offered  some.  The  Englishman's  quick  smile  in 
response  modified  the  German's  general  opinion  of  Eng- 
lish manners,  and  the  two  exchanged  some  remarks  on  the 
weather  —  a  thunder  shower  was  splashing  outside  — 
remarks  which  bore  witness  at  least  to  the  Englishman's 
courage  in  using  such  knowledge  of  the  German  tongue 
as  he  possessed.  Then,  smoking  contentedly,  he  leant 
against  the  wall  behind  him,  still  looking  on. 

He  saw  a  large  room,  some  seventy  feet  long,  filled 
with  a  miscellaneous  foreign  crowd  —  South  Gcnnans, 
Austrians,  Russians,  Italians  —  seated  in  groups  round 
small  tables,  smoking,  playing  cards  or  dominoes,  read- 
ing the  day's  newspapers  which  the  funicular  had  just 
brought  up,  or  lazily  listening  to  the  moderately  good 
band  which  was  playing  some  Rheingold  selection  at  the 
farther  end. 

To  his  left  was  a  large  family  circle  —  Russians,  ac- 

1 


2  Delia  Blanchflower 

cording  to  information  derived  from  the  lieadwaiter  — 
and  among  them,  a  girl,  apparently  about  eighteen,  sit- 
ting on  the  edge  of  the  party  and  absorbed  in  a  novel  of 
which  she  was  eagerly  turning  the  pages.  From  her 
face  and  figure  the  half  savage,  or  Asiatic  note,  present 
in  the  physiognomy  and  complexion  of  her  brothers  and 
sisters,  was  entirely  absent.  Her  beautiful  head  with  its 
luxuriant  mass  of  black  hair,  worn  low  upon  the  cheek, 
and  coiled  in  thick  plaits  behind,  reminded  the  English- 
man of  a  Greek  fragment  he  had  admired,  not  many  days 
before,  in  the  Louvre ;  her  form  too  was  of  a  classical 
lightness  and  perfection.  The  Englishman  noticed  in- 
deed that  her  temper  was  apparently  not  equal  to  her 
looks.  When  her  small  brothers  interrupted  her,  she 
repelled  them  with  a  pettish  word  or  gesture ;  the  Eng- 
lish governess  addressed  her,  and  got  no  answer  beyond 
a  haughty  look ;  even  her  mother  was  scarcely  better 
treated. 

Close  by,  at  another  table,  was  another  young  girl, 
rather  younger  than  the  first,  and  equally  pretty.  She 
too  was  dark  haired,  with  a  delicate  oval  face  and  velvet 
black  eyes,  but  without  any  of  the  passionate  distinction, 
the  fire  and  flame  of  the  other.  She  was  German,  evi- 
dently. She  wore  a  plain  white  dress  with  a  red  sash, 
and  her  little  feet  in  white  shoes  were  lightly  crossed  in 
front  of  her.  The  face  and  eyes  were  all  alive,  it  seemed 
to  him,  with  happiness,  with  the  mere  pleasure  of  life. 
She  could  not  keep  herself  still  for  a  moment.  Either 
she  was  sending  laughing  signals  to  an  elderly  man  near 
her,  presumably  her  father,  or  chattering  at  top  speed 
with  another  girl  of  her  own  age,  or  gathering  her  whole 
graceful  body  into  a  gesture  of  delight  as  the  familiar 
Rheingold  music  passed  from  one  lovely  motif  to  another. 

"  You  dear  little  thing !  "  thought  the  Englishman, 


Delia  Blanchflower  3 

with  an  Impulse  of  tenderness,  which  passed  into  fore- 
boding amusement  as  he  compared  the  pretty  creature 
with  some  of  the  matrons  sitting  near  her,  with  one  in 
particular,  a  lady  of  enormous  girth,  whose  achieve- 
ments in  eating  and  drinking  at  meals  had  seemed  to  him 
amazing.  Almost  all  the  middle-aged  women  in  the  hotel 
were  too  fat,  and  had  lost  their  youth  thereb}',  prema- 
turely. Must  the  fairy  herself  —  Euphrosj^ne  —  come 
to  such  a  muddy  vesture  in  the  end?  Twenty  years 
hence  ?  —  alack ! 

"  Beauty  that  must  die."  The  hackneyed  words  came 
suddenly  to  mind,  and  haunted  him,  as  his  eyes  wandered 
round  the  room.  Amid  many  coarse  or  commonplace 
t3^pes,  he  yet  perceived  an  unusual  number  of  agreeable 
or  handsome  faces ;  as  is  indeed  generally  the  case  in  any 
Austrian  hotel.  Faces,  some  of  them,  among  the  very 
young  girls  especially,  of  a  rose-tinted  fairness,  and 
subtly  expressive,  the  dark  brows  arching  on  white  fore- 
heads, the  features  straight  and  clean,  the  heads  well 
carried,  as  though  conscious  of  ancestry  and  tradition ; 
faces,  also,  of  the  bourgeoisie,  of  a  simpler,  Gretchen- 
like  beauty ;  faces  —  a  few  —  of  "  intellectuals,"  as  he 
fancied, —  including  the  girl  with  the  novel?  —  not  al- 
ways handsome,  but  arresting,  and  sometimes  noble. 
He  felt  himself  In  a  border  land  of  races,  where  the 
Teutonic  and  Latin  strains  had  each  Improved  the 
other;  and  the  pretty  young  girls  and  women  seemed 
to  him  like  flowers  sprung  from  an  old  and  rich  soil. 
He  found  his  pleasure  in  watching  them  —  the  pleasure 
of  the  Ancient  Mariner  when  he  blessed  the  water- 
snakes.  Sex  had  little  to  say  to  it ;  and  personal  desire 
nothing.  Was  he  not  just  over  forty?  —  a  very  busy 
Englishman,  snatching  a  hard-earned  holiday  —  a 
bachelor,  moreover,  whose  own  story  lay  far  behind  him. 


4  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Beauty  that  must  die."  The  words  reverberated 
and  would  not  be  dismissed.  Was  it  because  he  had 
just  been  reading  an  article  in  a  new  number  of  the 
Quarterly,  on  "  Contemporary  Feminism,"  with  mingled 
amazement  and  revolt,  roused  by  some  of  the  strange 
facts  collected  bj  the  writer?  So  women  everywhere 
—  many  women  at  any  rate  —  were  turning  indiscrim- 
inately against  the  old  bonds,  the  old  yokes,  affections, 
servitudes,  demanding  "  self-realisation,"  freedom  for 
the  individuality  and  the  personal  will ;  rebelling  against 
motherhood,  and  life-long  marriage ;  clamouring  for 
easy  divorce,  and  denouncing  their  own  fathers,  brothers 
and  husbands,  as  either  tyrants  or  fools;  casting  away 
the  old  props  and  veils ;  determined,  apparently,  to 
know  everything,  however  ugly,  and  to  say  everything, 
however  outrageous?  He  himself  was  a  countryman, 
an  English  provincial,  with  English  public  school  and 
university  traditions  of  the  best  kind  behind  him,  a 
mind  steeped  in  history,  and  a  natural  taste  for  all  that 
was  ancient  and  deep-rooted.  The  sketch  of  an  emerg- 
ing generation  of  women,  given  in  the  Quarterly  article, 
had  made  a  deep  impression  upon  him.  It  seemed  to 
him  frankly  horrible.  He  was  of  course  well  acquainted, 
though  mainly  through  the  newspapers,  with  English 
sufFragism,  moderate  and  extreme.  His  own  country 
district  and  circle  were  not,  however,  much  concerned 
with  it.  And  certain])^  he  knew  personally  no  such 
types  as  the  Quarterly  article  described.  Among  them, 
no  doubt,  were  the  women  who  set  fire  to  houses,  and 
violently  interrupter,  or  assaulted  Cabinet  ministers, 
who  wrote  and  maintained  newspapers  that  decent 
people  vvould  rather  not  read,  who  grasped  at  martyr- 
dom and  had  turned  evasion  of  penalty  into  a  science. 
But  the  continental  t^'pe,  though  not  as  yet  involved 


Delia  Blanchflower  5 

like  their  English  sisters  In  a  hand-to-hand,  or  fist-to- 
fist  struggle  with  law  and  order,  were.  It  seemed,  even 
more  revolutionar}'-  in  principle,  and  to  some  extent  in 
action.  The  life  and  opinions  of  a  Sonia  KovalevskI 
left  him  bewildered.  For  no  man  was  less  omniscient  / 
than  he.  Like  the  Cabinet  minister  of  recent  fame.  In 
the  presence  of  such  femmes  fortes,  he  might  have 
honestly  pleaded,  mutatis  mutandis,  "  In  these  things  I 
am  a  child." 

Were  these  light-limbed,  dark-eyed  maidens  under 
his  eyes  touched  with  this  new  anarchy.''  They  or 
their  elders  must  know  something  about  it.  There  had 
been  a  Feminist  congress  lately  at  Tricnt  —  on  the  very 
site,  and  among  the  ghosts  of  the  great  Council.  Well, 
what  could  it  bring  them?  Was  there  anything  so 
brief,  so  passing,  If  she  did  but  know  It,  as  a  woman's 
time  for  happiness  ?     "  Beauty  that  must  die." 

As  the  words  recurred,  some  old  anguish  lying  curled 
at  his  heart  raised  Its  head  and  struck.  He  heard  a 
voice — tremulously  sweet — "  I\Iark ! — dear  Mark ! — I'm 
not  good  enough  —  but  I'll  be  to  you  all  a  woman  can." 

She  had  not  played  with  life  —  or  scorned  it  —  or 
missed  it.  It  was  not  her  fault  that  she  must  put  it 
from  her. 

In  the  midst  of  the  crowd  about  him,  he  was  no 
longer  aware  of  It.  Still  smoking  m.echanically,  his 
eyelids  had  fallen  over  his  eyes,  as  his  head  rested 
against  the  wall. 

He  was  Interrupted  by  a  voice  which  said  in  ex- 
cellent though   foreign  English  — 

"  I  beg  3'our  pardon,  sir  —  I  wonder  If  I  might  have 
that  paper  you  are  standing  on .?  " 

He  looked  down  astonished,  and  saw  that  he  was 
trampling  on  the  day's  New  York  Herald,  which  had 


6  Delia  Blanchflower 

fallen  from  a  table  near.  With  many  apologies  he 
lifted  it,  smoothed  it  out,  and  presented  it  to  the  elderly 
lady  who  had  asked  for  it. 

She  looked  at  him  through  her  spectacles  with  a 
pleasant  smile. 

"  You  don't  find  many  English  newspapers  in  these 
Tyrolese  hotels  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  provide  myself.  I  get  my  Times  from 
home." 

"  Then,  as  an  Englishman,  you  have  all  you  want. 
But  you  seem  to  be  without  it  to-night  ?  " 

"  It  hasn't  arrived.  So  I  am  reduced,  as  you  see, 
to  listening  to  the  music." 

"  You  are  not  musical .?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  like  this  band  anyway.  It  makes  too 
much  noise.     Don't  you  think  it  rather  a  nuisance.'*" 

"  No.  It  helps  these  people  to  talk,"  she  said,  in  a 
crisp,  cheerful  voice,  looking  round  the  room. 

"  But  they  don't  want  any  help.  Most  of  them  talk 
by  nature  as  fast  as  the  human  tongue  can  go !  " 

"  About  nothing !  "     She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

Winnington  observed  her  more  closely.  She  was,  he 
guessed,  somewhere  near  fifty ;  her  scanty  hair  was  al- 
ready gre}^,  and  her  round,  plain  face  was  wrinkled 
and  scored  like  a  dried  apple.  But  her  eyes,  which 
were  dark  and  singularly  bright,  expressed  both  energy 
and  wit ;  and  her  mouth,  of  which  the  upper  lip  was 
caught  up  a  little  at  one  corner,  seemed  as  though  quiv- 
ering with  unspoken  and,  as  he  thought,  sarcastic 
speech.  Was  she,  perchance,  the  Swedish  Scliriftstel- 
lerin  of  whom  he  had  heard  the  porter  talking  to  some 
of  the  hotel  guests?  She  looked  a  lonely-ish,  inde- 
pendent sort  of  body. 

"  They  seem  nice,  kindly  people,"  he  said,  glancing 
round  the  salon.     "  And  how  they  enjoy  life!  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  7 

"You  call  it  Hfc?" 

He  laughed  out. 

"  You  are  hard  upon  them,  madame.  Now  I  — 
being  a  mere  man  —  am  lost  in  admiration  of  their  good 
looks.  We  in  England  pride  ourselves  on  our  women. 
But  upon  my  word,  it  would  be  difficult  to  match 
this  show  in  an  English  hotel.  Look  at  some  of  the 
faces ! " 

She  followed  his  eyes  —  indifferently. 

"  Yes  —  they've  plenty  of  beauty.  And  what'll  it 
do  for  them  .J*  Lead  them  into  some  wretched  marriage 
or  other  —  and  in  a  couple  of  years  there  will  be  neither 
beauty  nor  health,  nor  self-respect,  nor  any  interest  in 
anything,  but  money,  clothes,  and  outwitting  their  hus- 
bands." 

"  You  forget  the  children  !  " 

"  Ah  —  the  children  " —  she  said  in  a  dubious  tone, 
shrugging  her  shoulders  again. 

The  Englishman  —  whose  name  was  Mark  Winning- 
ton  —  suddenly  saw  light  upon  her. 

A  Swedish  writer,  a  woman  travelling  alone?  He 
remembered  the  sketch  of  "  feminism  "  in  Sweden  which 
he  had  just  read.  The  names  of  certain  woman-writers 
flitted  through  his  mind.  He  felt  a  curiosity  mixed 
with  distaste.      But  curiosity  prevailed. 

He  bent  forward.  And  as  he  came  thereby  into 
stronger  light  from  a  window  on  his  left,  the  thought 
crossed  the  mind  of  his  neighbour  that  although  so  fully 
aware  of  other  people's  good  looks,  the  tall  Englishman 
seemed  to  be  quite  unconscious  of  his  own.  Yet  in 
truth  he  appeared  both  to  her,  and  to  the  hotel  guests 
in  general,  a  kind  of  heroic  creature.  In  height  he 
towered  beside  the  young  or  middle-aged  men  from 
Munich,  Buda-Pesth,  or  the  north  Italian  towns,  who 


8  Delia  Blanchflower 

filled  the  salon.  He  had  all  that  athlete  could  desire 
in  the  way  of  shoulders,  and  lean  length  of  body ;  a 
finely-carried  head,  on  which  the  brown  hair  was  wear- 
ing a  little  thin  at  the  crown,  while  still  irrepressibly 
strong  and  curly  round  the  brow  and  temple;  thick 
penthouse  brov.'s,  and  beneath  them  a  pair  of  greyish 
eyes  which  had  already  made  him  friends  with  the  chil- 
dren and  the  dogs  and  half  the  grov/n-ups  in  the  place. 
The  Swedish  lady  adm.itted  —  but  with  no  cordiality  — 
that  human  kindness  could  hardly  speak  more  plainly  in 
a  human  face  than  from  those  eyes.  Yet  the  mouth 
and  chin  were  thin,  strong  and  determined ;  so  were  the 
hands.  The  man's  whole  aspect,  moreover,  spoke  of 
assured  position,  and  of  a  keen  intelligence  free  from 
personal  pre-occupations,  and  keeping  a  disinterested 
outlook  on  the  world.  The  woman  who  observed  him 
had  in  her  handbag  a  book  by  a  Russian  lady  in  which 
Man,  with  a  capital,  figured  either  as  "  a  great  comic 
baby,"  or  as  the  "  Man-Beast,"  invented  for  the  tor- 
ment of  women.  The  gentleman  before  her  seemed  a 
little  difficult  to  fit  into  either  category. 

But  if  she  was  observing  him,  he  had  begun  to  ques- 
tion her. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  ask  an  impertinent  ques- 
tion?" 

"  Certainly.  Thej'  are  the  only  questions  worth 
asking." 

He  laughed. 

"You  are,  I  think,  from  Sweden.^" 

"  That  is  m}^  countr}'." 

"And  I  am  told  you  are  a  writer?"  She  bent  her 
head.  "  I  can  see  also  that  you  are  —  what  shall  I 
say?  —  very  critical  of  your  sex  —  no  doubt,  still  more 
of  mine!     I  wonder  if  I  may  ask  " — 


Delia  Blanchflower  9 

He  paused,  his  smiling  eyes  upon  her. 

"  Ask  anything  you  like." 

"  Well,  there  seems  to  be  a  great  woman-movement 
In  your  country.     Are  you  interested  in  it?" 

"You  mean  —  am  I  a  feminist?  Yes,  I  happen  to 
dislike  the  word ;  but  it  describes  me.  I  have  been 
working  for  years  for  the  advancement  of  women.  I 
have  written  about  it  —  and  in  the  Scandinavian  coun- 
tries we  have  already  got  a  good  deal.  The  vote  in 
Sweden  and  Norwa}^ ;  almost  complete  equality  with 
men  in  Denmark.  Professional  equality,  too,  has  gone 
far.  We  shall  get  all  we  want  before  long?  "  Her 
eyes  sparkled  in  her  small  lined  face. 

"  And  you  are  satisfied?  " 

"  What  human  being  of  any  intelligence  —  and  I  am 
intelligent,"  she  added,  quietly, — "  ever  confessed  to 
being  '  satisfied  '  ?  Our  shoe  pinched  us.  We  have 
eased  it  a  good  deal." 

"  You  really  find  it  substantially  better  to  walk 
with?" 

"  Through  this  uncomfortable  world  ?  Certainly. 
Why  not?" 

He  was  silent  a  little.  Then  he  said,  with  his  pleas- 
ant look,  throwing  his  head  back  to  observe  her,  as 
though  aware  he  might  rouse  her  antagonism. 

"  All  that  seems  to  me  to  go  such  a  little  way." 

"  I  daresay,"  she  said,  indifferently,  though  it  seemed 
to  him  that  she  flushed.  "  You  men  have  had  every- 
thing you  want  for  so  long,  you  have  lost  the  sense  of 
value.  Now  that  we  want  some  of  your  rights,  it  is 
your  cue  to  belittle  them.  And  England,  of  course,  is 
hopelessly  behind !  "     The  tone  had  sharpened. 

He  laughed  again  and  was  about  to  reply  when  the 
band  struck  up  Brahm's  Hungarian  dances,  and  talk 


10  Delia  Blanchflower 

was  hopeless.  When  the  music  was  over,  and  the  burst 
of  clapping,  from  all  the  young  folk  especially,  had 
died  awa}',  the  Swedish  lady  said  abruptly  — 

"  But  we  had  an  English  lady  here  last  year  —  quite 
a  young  girl  —  very  handsome  too  —  who  was  an  even 
stronger  feminist  than  I." 

"  Oh,  yes,  we  can  produce  them  —  In  great  numbers. 
You  have  only  to  look  at  our  newspapers." 

His  companion's  upper  lip  mocked  at  the  remark. 

"  You  don't  produce  them  in  great  numbers  —  like 
the  young  lady  I  speak  of." 

"  Ah,  she  was  good-looking.''  "  laughed  Winnington. 
"  That,  of  course,  gave  her  a  most  unfair  advantage." 

"A  man's  jest,"  said  the  otKer  dryly — "  and  an  old 
one.  But  naturally  women  take  all  the  advantage  they 
can  get  —  out  of  anything.  They  need  it.  However, 
this  young  lady  had  plenty  of  other  gifts  —  besides  her 
beauty.  She  was  as  strong  as  most  men.  She  rode, 
she  climbed,  she  sang.  The  whole  hotel  did  nothing  but 
watch  her.  She  was  the  centre  of  everything.  But 
after  a  little  while  she  insisted  on  leaving  her  father 
down  here  to  over-eat  himself  and  play  cards,  whila  she 
went  with  her  maid  and  a  black  mare  that  nobody  but 
she  wanted  to  ride,  up  to  the  Jagd-hutte  in  the  forest. 
There !  —  you  can  see  a  little  blue  smoke  coming  from 
it  now  " — 

She  pointed  through  the  window  to  the  great  forest- 
clothed  cliff,  some  five  thousand  feet  high,  which  fronted 
the  hotel;  and  across  a  deep  valley,  just  below  its  top- 
most point,  Mark  Winnington  saw  a  puff  of  smoke 
mounting  into  the  clear  sky. 

— "  Of  course  there  was  a  great  deal  of  talk.  The 
men  gossipped  and  the  women  scoffed.  Her  father,  who 
adored    her    and    could   not    control   her   in   the   least, 


Delia  Blanchflower  il 

shrugged  his  shoulders,  played  bridge  all  day  long  with 
an  English  family,  and  would  sit  on  the  verandah  watch- 
ing the  path  —  that  path  there  —  which  comes  down 
from  the  Jagd-hutte  with  a  spy-glass.  Sometimes  she 
would  send  him  down  a  letter  by  one  of  the  Jager's  boys, 
and  he  would  send  a  reply.  And  every  now  and  then  she 
would  come  down  —  riding  —  like  a  Brunhilde,  with  her 
hair  all  blown  about  her  —  and  her  eyes  —  Ach, 
superb !  " 

The  little  dowdy  woman  threw  up  her  hands. 

Her  neighbour's  face  shewed  that  the  story  interested 
and  amused  him. 

"  A  Valkyrie,  indeed !     But  how  a  feminist  ?  " 

"  You  shall  hear.  One  evening  she  offered  to  give 
an  address  at  the  hotel  on  '  Women  and  the  Future.' 
She  was  already  of  course  regarded  as  half  mad,  and 
her  opinions  were  well  known.  Some  people  objected, 
and  spoke  to  the  manager.  Her  father,  it  was  said, 
tried  to  stop  it,  but  she  got  her  own  way  with  him. 
And  the  manager  finally  decided  that  the  advertisement 
would  be  greater  than  the  risk.  When  the  evening  came 
the  place  was  honde;  people  came  from  every  inn  and 
pension  round  for  miles.  She  spoke  beautiful  German, 
she  had  learnt  it  from  a  German  governess  who  had 
brought  her  up,  and  been  a  second  mother  to  her ;  and 
she  hadn't  a  particle  of  mauvaise  honte.  Somebody  had 
draped  some  Austrian  and  English  flags  behind  her. 
The  South  Germans  and  Viennese,  and  Hungarians  who 
came  to  listen  —  just  the  same  kind  of  people  who  are 
here  to-night  —  could  hardly  keep  themselves  on  their 
chairs.  The  men  laughed  and  stared  —  I  heard  a  few 
brutalities  —  but  they  couldn't  keep  their  eyes  off  her, 
and  in  the  end  they  cheered  her.  Most  of  the  women 
were  shocked,  and  wished  they  hadn't  come,  or  let  their 


12  Delia  Blanchilower 

girls  come.  And  the  girls  themselves  sat  open- 
mouthed  —  drinking  it  in." 

"  Amazing !  "  laughed  the  Englisliman.  "  Wish  I 
had  been  there !     Was  it  an  onslaught  upon  men  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  his  companion  coolly.  "  What  else 
could  it  be?  At  present  you  men  are  the  gaolers,  and 
we  the  prisoners  in  revolt.  This  girl  talked  revolu- 
tion —  they  all  do.  '  We  women  intend  to  have  equal 
rights  with  you  I  —  whatever  it  cost.  And  when  we 
have  got  them  we  shall  begin  to  fashion  the  world  as  we 
want  it  —  and  not  as  you  men  have  kept  it  till  now. 
Gare  a  vous!  You  have  enslaved  us  for  ages  —  you 
may  enslave  us  a  good  while  yet  —  but  the  end  is  cer- 
tain. There  is  a  new  age  coming,  and  it  will  be  the  age 
of  the  free  woman ! ' —  That  was  the  kind  of  thing.  I 
daresay  it  sounds  absurd  to  you  —  but  as  she  put  it  — 
as  she  looked  it  — ^  I  can  tell  you,  it  was  fine  !  " 

The  small,  work-worn  hands  of  the  Swedish  lady  shook 
on  her  knee.  Her  e3^es  seemed  to  hold  the  Englishman 
at  bay.     Then  she  added,  in  another  tone. 

"  Some  people  of  course  walked  out,  and  afterwards 
there  were  many  complaints  from  fathers  of  families 
that  their  daughters  should  have  been  exposed  to  such 
a  thing.     But  it  all  passed  over." 

"  And  the  young  lady  went  back  to  the  forest  ?  " 

"  Yes, —  for  a  time." 

"And  what  became  of  the  black  mare?  " 

*'  Its  mistress  gave  her  to  an  inn-keeper  here  when 
she  left.  But  the  first  time  he  went  to  see  the  horse  in 
the  stable,  she  trampled  on  him  and  he  was  laid  up  for 
weeks." 

"Like  mistress,  like  mare?  —  Excuse  the  jest!  But 
now,  may  I  know  tlie  name  of  the  prophetess?  " 

"  She  was  a  Miss  Blanchflower,"  said  the  Swedish 


Delia  Blanchflower  13 

lady,  boggling  a  little  over  the  name.  "  Her  father 
had  been  a  governor  of  one  of  your  colonies." 

Winnington  started  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  Good  heavens  !  —  you  don't  mean  a  daughter  of  old 
Bob  Blanchflower !  " 

"  Her  father's  name  was  Sir  Robert  Blanchflower." 

The  tanned  face  beside  her  expressed  the  liveliest  in- 
terest. 

"  Why,  I  knew  Blanchflower  quite  well.  I  met  him 
long  ago  when  I  was  staying  with  an  uncle  in  India  — 
at  a  station  in  the  Bombay  presidency.  He  was  Major 
Blanchflower  then  " • 

The  speaker's  brow  furrowed  a  little  as  though  un- 
der the  stress  of  some  sudden  recollection,  and  he  seemed 
to  check  himself  in  what  he  was  saying.  But  in  a  mo- 
ment he  resumed :  — 

"  A  little  after  that  he  left  the  army,  and  went  into 
Parliament.  And  —  precisely !  —  after  a  few  years 
they  made  him  governor  somewhere  —  not  much  of  a 
post.  Then  last  year  his  old  father,  a  neighbour  of 
mine  in  Hampshire,  quite  close  to  my  little  place,  went 
and  died,  and  Blanchflower  came  into  a  fortune  and  a 
good  deal  of  land  besides.  And  I  remember  hearing 
that  he  had  thrown  up  the  Colonial  Service,  had  broken 
down  in  health,  and  was  living  abroad  for  some  years 
to  avoid  the  English  climate.  That's  the  man  of  course. 
And  the  Valkyrie  is  Blanchflower's  daughter !  Very 
odd  that !  I  must  have  seen  her  as  a  child.  Her 
mother  " —  he  paused  again  slightly  ■ — "  was  a  Greek 
by  birth,  and  gloriously  handsome.  Blanchflower  met 
her  when  he  was  military  attache  at  Athens  for  a  short 
time. —  Well,  that's  all  very  interesting!" 

And  in  a  ruminating  mood  the  Englishman  took  out 
his  cigarette-case. 


14  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  You  smoke,  Madame  ?  " 

The  Swedish  lady  quietly  accepted  the  courtesy. 
And  while  the  too  insistent  band  paused  between  one 
murdered  Wagnerian  fragment  and  another,  they  con- 
tinued a  conversation  which  seemed  to  amuse  them  both. 

A  little  later  the  Englishman  went  out  into  the  gar- 
den of  the  hotel,  meaning  to  start  for  a  walk.  But  he 
espied  a  party  of  young  people  gathered  about  the 
new  lawn-tennis  court  where  instead  of  the  languid  and 
dishevelled  trifling,  with  a  broken  net  and  a  wretched 
court,  that  was  once  supposed  to  attract  English  visi- 
tors, he  had  been  already  astonished  to  find  Austrians 
and  Hungarians  —  both  girls  and  boys  —  playing  a 
game  quite  up  to  the  average  of  a  good  English  club. 
The  growing  athleticism  and  independence,  indeed,  of 
the  foreign  girl,  struck,  for  Winnington,  the  note  of 
change  in  this  mid-European  spectacle  more  clearly  than 
anything  else.  It  was  some  ten  years  since  he  had 
been  abroad  in  August,  a  month  he  had  been  always 
accustomed  to  spend  in  Scotch  visits;  and  these  young 
girls,  with  whom  the  Tyrol  seemed  to  swarm,  of  all 
European  nationalities  other  than  English,  still  in  or 
just  out  of  the  schoolroom;  hatless  and  fearless;  with 
their  knapsacks  on  their  backs,  sometimes  with  ice-axes 
in  their  hands ;  climbing  peaks  and  passes  with  their 
fathers  and  brothers ;  playing  lawn-tennis  like  young 
men,  and  shewing  their  shapely  forms  sometimes,  when 
it  was  a  question  of  attacking  the  heights,  in  knicker- 
bocker  costume,  and  at  other  times  in  fresh  white  dresses 
and  bright-coloured  jerseys,  without  a  hint  of  waist; 
these  young  Atalantas,  budding  and  bloomed,  made  the 
strongest  impression  upon  him,  as  of  a  new  race. 
Where  had  he  been  all  these  years?     He  felt  himself  a 


Delia  Blanchflower  i^ 

kind  of  Rip  van  Winkle  —  face  to  face  at  forty-one  with 
a  generation  unknown  to  him.  No  one  of  course  could 
live  in  England,  and  not  be  aware  of  the  change  which 
has  passed  over  English  girls  in  the  same  direction. 
But  the  Englishman  always  tacitly  assumes  that  the 
foreigner  is  far  behind  him  in  all  matters  of  open-air 
sport  and  phj'sical  development.  Winnington  had  soon 
confessed  the  touch  of  national  arrogance  in  his  own 
surprise ;  and  was  now  the  keen  and  much  attracted  spec- 
tator. 

On  one  of  the  grounds  he  saw  the  little  German  girl  — 
Euphrosyne,  as  he  had  already  dubbed  her  —  having 
a  lesson  from  a  bullying  elder  brother.  The  youth, 
amazed  at  his  own  condescension,  scolded  his  sister 
perpetually,  and  at  last  gave  her  up  in  despair,  vowing 
that  she  would  never  be  any  good,  and  he  was  not  go- 
ing to  waste  his  time  in  teaching  such  a  ninn3^  Eu- 
phrosyne sat  down  beside  the  court,  with  tears  in  her 
pretty  eyes,  her  white  feet  crossed,  her  dark  head  droop- 
ing; and  two  girl  companions,  aged  about  sixteen  or 
seventeen,  like  herself,  came  up  to  comfort  her. 

"  I  could  soon  shew  ji-ou  how  to  improve  your  service, 
jVIademoiselle,"  said  Winnington,  smiling,  as  he  passed 
her.  Euphrosyne  looked  up  startled,  but  at  sight  of  the 
handsome  middle-aged  Englishman,  whom  she  unkindly 
judged  to  be  not  much  younger  than  her  father,  she 
timidly  replied :  — 

"  It  is  hateful.  Monsieur,  to  be  so  stupid  as  I  am !  " 

"  Let  me  shew  you,"  repeated  Winnington,  kindly. 
At  this  moment,  a  vigilant  English  governess  —  speak- 
ing with  a  strong  Irish- American  accent  —  came  up, 
and  after  a  glance  at  the  Englishman,  smilingly  ac- 
quiesced. The  two  comforters  of  Euphrosyne,  grace- 
ful little  maids,  with  cherry-coloured  jerseys  over  their 


i6  Delia  Blanchflower 

white  frocks,  and  golden  brown  hair  tied  with  the  large 
black  bows  of  the  Backfisch,  were  eager  to  share  the 
lesson,  and  soon  Winnington  found  himself  the  centre  of 
a  whole  bevy  of  boys  and  girls  who  had  run  up  to  watch 
Euphrosyne's  performance. 

The  English  governess,  a  good  girl,  in  spite  of  her 
accent,  and  the  unconscious  fraud  she  was  thereby  per- 
petrating on  her  employers,  thought  she  had  seldom 
witnessed  a  more  agreeable  scene. 

"  He  treats  them  like  princesses,  and  yet  he  makes 
them  learn,"  she  thought,  a  comment  which  very  fairly 
expressed  the  mixture  of  something  courtly  with  some- 
thing masterful  in  the  Englishman's  manner.  He  was 
patience  itself;  but  he  was  also  frankness  itself,  whether 
for  praise  or  blame ;  and  the  eagerness  to  please  him 
grew  fast  and  visibly  in  all  these  young  creatuers. 

But  as  soon  as  he  had  brought  back  Euphrosyne's 
smiles,  and  roused  a  new  and  fierce  ambition  to  excel 
in  all  their  young  breasts,  he  dropped  the  lesson,  with 
a  few  gay  slangy  words,  and  went  his  way,  leaving  a 
stir  behind  him  of  which  he  was  quite  unconscious. 
And  there  was  no  Englishman  looking  on  who  might 
have  told  the  charmed  and  conquered  maidens  that 
they  had  just  been  coached  by  one  of  the  most  famous 
of  English  athletes,  bom  with  a  natural  genius  for  every 
kind  of  game,  from  cricket  downwards. 

On  his  way  to  the  eastern  side  of  the  pass  on  v/hich 
stood  the  group  of  hotels,  Winnington  got  his  post  from 
the  concierge,  including  his  nightly  Times,  and  carried 
it  with  him  to  a  seat  with  which  he  was  already  fa- 
miliar. 

But  he  left  the  Times  unopened,  for  the  spectacle  be- 
fore him  was  one  to  ravish  the  senses  from  ever3'thing 


Delia  Blanchfiower  17 

but  itself.  He  looked  across  the  deep  valley  of  the 
Adige,  nearly  four  thousand  feet  below  him,  to  the 
giant  range  of  the  Dolomite  Alps  on  the  eastern  side. 
The  shadow  of  the  forest-clad  mountain  on  which  he 
stood  spread  downwards  over  the  plain,  and  crept  up 
the  mountains  on  the  farther  edge.  Above  a  gulf  of 
deepest  blue,  inlaid  with  the  green  of  vineyards  and 
forest  lakes,  he  beheld  an  aerial  world  of  rose-colour  — 
tlie  giant  Dolomites,  Latemar,  Rosengarten,  Schlern  — 
majestic  rulers  of  an  upper  air,  so  pure  and  luminous, 
that  every  tiny  shadow  cast  by  every  wisp  of  wandering 
cloud  on  the  bare  red  peaks,  was  plainly  visible  across 
the  thirty  miles  of  space.  Rosengarten,  with  its  snow- 
less,  tempest-beaten  crags,  held  the  centre,  flushing  to  its 
name;  and  to  the  right  and  left,  peak  ranged  beyond 
peak,  like  courtiers  croAvding  to  their  king ;  chief  among 
them  a  vast  pyramid,  blood-red  in  the  sunset,  from  which 
the  whole  side,  it  seemed,  had  been  torn  away,  leaving 
a  gash  so  fresh  it  might  have  been  ripped  by  a  storm  of 
yesterda}',  yet  older  perhaps  than   Calvary.   .   .  . 

The  great  show  faded  through  every  tone  of  delicate 
beauty  to  a  starry  twilight, —  passion  into  calm.  Win- 
nington  watched  till  it  was  done,  still  with  the  Keatsian 
tag  in  his  mind,  and  that  deep  inner  memory  of  loss, 
to  which  the  vanished  splendour  of  the  mountains  seemed 
to  make  a  mystic  answering.  He  was  a  romantic  — 
some  would  have  said  a  sentimental  person,  with  a  poet 
always  in  his  pocket,  and  a  hunger  for  all  that  might 
shield  him  from  the  worst  uglinesses  of  life,  and  the 
worst  despairs  of  thought ;  an  optimist,  and,  in  his  own 
sense.  Christian.  He  had  come  abroad  to  wander  alone 
for  a  time,  because  as  one  of  the  busiest,  most  important 
and  most  popular  men  in  a  wide  country-side,  he  had 
had  a  year  of  unceasing  and  strenuous  work,  with  no 


i8  Delia  Blanchflower 

time  to  himself ;  and  it  had  suddenly  been  borne  in  upon 
him,  in  choosing  between  the  Alps  and  Scotland,  that 
a  man  must  sometimes  be  alone,  for  his  soul's  health. 
And  he  had  never  relished  the  luxury  of  occasional  soli- 
tude so  sharply  as  on  this  pine-scented  evening  in  Tyrol. 

It  was  not  till  he  was  sitting  again  under  the  electric 
light  of  the  hotel  verandah  that  he  opened  his  Times. 
The  first  paragraph  which  his  eye  lit  upon  was  an  obit- 
uary notice  of  Sir  Robert  Blanchflower  "  whose  death, 
after  a  long  illness  and  much  suffering,  occurred  last 
week  in  Paris."  The  notice  ended  with  the  words  — 
"  the  deceased  baronet  leaves  a  large  property  both 
in  land  and  personalty.  His  only  child,  a  daughter, 
Miss  Delia  Blanchflower,  survives  him." 

Winnington  laid  down  the  paper.  So  the  Valkyrie 
was  now  alone  in  the  world,  and  mistress  no  doubt  of 
all  her  father's  wealth.  "  I  must  have  seen  her  —  I 
am  sure  there  was  a  child  about " ;  he  said  to  him- 
self again ;  and  his  thoughts  went  groping  into  a  mostly 
forgotten  past,  and  as  he  endeavoured  to  reconstruct 
it,  the  incident  which  had  brought  him  for  a  few  weeks 
into    close    relations    with    Robert    Blanchflower,    then 

Major    Blanchflower  of   the  Dragoons,   came   at 

last  vividly  back  to  him. 

An  easy-going  husband  —  a  beautiful  wife,  not  vi- 
cious, but  bored  to  death  —  the  inevitable  third,  in  the 
person  of  a  young  and  amorous  cavalry  officer  —  and 
a  whole  Indian  station,  waiting,  half  maliciously,  half 
sadly,  for  the  banal  catastrophe :  —  it  was  thus  he  re- 
membered the  situation.  Winnington  had  arrived  on 
the  scene  as  a  barrister  of  some  five  years'  standing,  in- 
valided after  an  acute  attack  of  pneumonia,  and  the 
guest  for  the  winter  of  his  uncle,  then  Commissioner  of 
the   district.     He  discovered  in   the   cavalry   officer   a 


Delia  Blanchflower  19 

fellow  who  had  been  his  particular  protege  at  Eton, 
and  had  owed  his  passionately  coveted  choice  for  the 
Eleven  largely  to  Winnington's  good  word.  The  whole 
dismal  little  drama  unveiled  itself,  and  Winnington  was 
hotly  moved  by  the  waste  and  pity  of  it.  He  was  en- 
tertained by  the  Blanchflowers  and  took  a  liking  to  them 
both.  The  old  friendship  between  Winnington  and  the 
cavalryman  was  soon  noticed  by  Major  Blanchflower, 
and  one  night  he  walked  home  with  Winnington,  who 
had  been  dining  at  his  house,  to  the  Commissioner's 
quarters.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  Winnington  realised 
what  it  may  be  to  wrestle  with  a  man  in  torment.  The 
next  day,  the  young  cavalryman,  at  Winnington's  in- 
vitation, took  his  old  friend  for  a  ride,  and  before  dawn 
on  the  following  day,  the  youth  was  off  on  leave,  and 
neither  Major  nor  Mrs.  Blanchflower,  Winnington  be- 
lieved, had  ever  seen  him  again.  What  he  did  with 
the  youth,  and  how  he  did  it,  he  cannot  exactly  remem- 
ber, but  at  least  he  doesn't  forget  the  grip  of  Blanch- 
flower's  hand,  and  the  look  of  deliverance  in  his  strained, 
hollow  face.  Nor  had  Mrs.  Blanchflower  borne  her 
rescuer  any  grudge.  He  had  parted  from  her  on  the 
best  of  terms,  and  the  recollection  of  her  astonishing 
beauty  grows  strong  in  him  as  he  thinks  of  her. 

So  now  it  is  her  daughter  who  is  stirring  the  world ! 
With  her  father's  money  and  her  mother's  eyes, —  not  to 
speak  of  the  additional  trifles  —  eloquence,  enthusiasm, 
&c. —  thrown  in  by  the  Swedish  woman,  she  ought  to 
find  it  eas}'. 

The  dressing-gong  of  the  hotel  disturbed  a  rather 
sleepy  reverie,  and  sent  the  Englishman  back  to  his 
Times^  And  a  few  hours  later  he  went  to  a  dreamless 
bed,  little  guessing  at  the  letter  which  was  even  then 
waiting  for  him,   far  below,  in  the  Botzen  post-office. 


Chapter  II 

WINNINGTON  took  his  morning  coffee  on  a  ver- 
andah of  the  hotel,  from  which  the  great  forests 
of  Monte  Vanna  were  widely  visible.  Upwards  from  the 
deep  valley  below  the  pass,  to  the  topmost  crags  of  the 
mountain,  their  royal  mantle  ran  unbroken.  This  morn- 
ing they  were  lightly  drowned  in  a  fine  weather  haze, 
and  the  mere  sight  of  them  suggested  cool  glades  and 
verdurous  glooms,  stretches  of  pink  willow  herb  lighting 
up  the  clearings  —  and  in  the  secret  heart  of  them  such 
chambers  "  deaf  to  noise  and  blind  to  light  "  as  the 
forest  lover  knows.  Winnington  promised  himself  a 
leisurely  climb  to  the  top  of  Monte  Vanna.  The  morn- 
ing foretold  considerable  heat,  but  under  the  pines  one 
might  mock  at  Plelios. 

Ah !  —  Euphrosyne ! 

She  came,  a  vision  of  morning,  tripping  along  in  her 
white  shoes  and  white  dress ;  followed  by  her  English 
governess,  the  lady,  as  Winnington  guessed,  from  West 
Belfast,  tempered  by  Brooklyn.  The  son  apparently 
was  still  in  bed,  nor  did  anyone  trouble  to  hurry  him  out 
of  it.  The  father,  a  Viennese  judge  en  retraite,  as  Win- 
nington had  been  already  informed  by  the  all-knowing 
porter  of  the  hotel,  was  a  shrewd  thin-lipped  old  fel- 
low, with  the  quiet  egotism  of  the  successful  lawyer. 
He  came  up  to  Winnington  as  soon  as  he  perceived  him, 
and  thanked  him  in  good  English  for  his  kindness  to 
Euphrosyne  of  the  day  before.     Winnington  responded 

suitably  and  was  soon  seated  at  their  table,  chatting  with 

20 


Delia  Blanchflower  21 

them  while  they  took  their  coffee.  Euphrosyne  shewed 
a  marked  pleasure  in  his  society,  and  upon  Winnington, 
steeped  in  a  holiday  reaction  from  much  strenuous  liv- 
ing, her  charm  worked  as  part  of  the  charm  of  the  day, 
and  the  magic  of  the  mountain  world.  He  noticed, 
however,  with  a  revival  of  alarm,  that  she  had  a  vigor- 
ous German  appetite  of  her  own,  and  as  he  watched  the 
rolls  disappear  he  trembled  for  the  slender  figure  and 
the  fawn-like  gait. 

After  breakfast,  while  the  governess  and  the  girl 
disappeared,  the  father  hung  over  the  verandah  smok- 
ing, beside  the  Englishman,  to  whom  he  was  clearly  at- 
tracted. He  spoke  quite  frankly  of  his  daughter,  and 
her  bringing  up.  "  She  is  motherless ;  her  mother  died 
when  she  was  ten  years  old ;  and  since,  I  must  educate 
her  myself.  It  gives  me  many  anxieties,  but  she  is  a 
sweet  creature,  dank  sei  gott!  I  will  not  let  her  ap- 
proach, even,  any  of  these  modern  ideas  about  women. 
My  wife  hated  them ;  I  do  also.  I  shall  marry  her  to  an 
honest  man,  and  she  will  make  a  good  wife  and  a  good 
house-mother." 

"  Mind  you  choose  him  well !  "  said  Winnington,  with 
a  shrug.  His  eyes  at  that  moment  were  critically  bent 
on  a  group  of  Berliners,  men  of  the  commercial  and 
stock-broking  class,  who,  with  their  wives,  had  arrived 
a  couple  of  nights  before.  The  men  were  strolling  and 
smoking  below.  They  were  all  fat,  red-faced  and  over- 
bearing. When  they  went  for  walks,  the  man  stalked 
in  front  along  the  forest  paths,  and  the  woman  followed 
behind,  carrying  her  own  jacket.  Winnington  won- 
dered what  it  might  be  like  to  be  the  wife  of  any  of  them. 
These  Herren  at  any  rate  might  not  be  the  worse  for 
a  little  hustling  from  the  "  woman  movement."  He 
could  not,  however,  say  honestly  that  the  wives  shewed 


22  Delia  Blanchflower 

any  consciousness  of  ill-fortune.  They  were  almost  all 
plump,  plumper  even  than  their  husbands,  expensively 
dressed  and  prosperous  looking;  and  the  amount  of 
Viennese  beer  they  consumed  at  the  forest  restaurants 
to  which  their  husbands  conducted  them,  seemed  to  the 
Englishman  portentous. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter  is  old-fashioned,"  resumed  the  ex- 
judge,  complacently,  after  a  pause.  "  And  I  am 
grateful  to  Miss  Johnson,  who  has  trained  her  very  well. 
If  she  were  like  some  of  the  girls  one  sees  now!  Last 
year  there  was  a  young  lady  here  —  Ach,  Gott!  "  He 
raised  his  shoulders,  with  a  contemptuous  mouth. 

"  Miss  Blanchflower  ?  "  asked  Winnington,  turning 
towards  the  speaker  with  sudden  interest. 

"  That  I  believe  was  her  name.  She  was  mad,  of 
course.  Ach,  they  have  told  you.-^  —  of  that  Vortrag 
she  gave  ?  —  and  the  rest  ?  After  ten  minutes,  I  made 
a  sign  to  my  daughter,  and  we  walked  out.  I  would 
not  have  had  her  corrupted  with  these  ideas  for  the 
whole  world.  And  such  beauty,  you  understand !  That 
makes  it  more  dangerous.  Ja,  ja,  Liebchen  —  ich 
homme  gleicli!  " 

For  there  had  been  a  soft  call  from  Euphrosyne, 
standing  on  the  steps  of  the  hotel,  and  her  fond  father 
hurried  away  to  join  her. 

At  the  same  moment,  the  porter  emerged,  bearing  a 
bundle  of  letters  and  newspapers  which  had  just  arrived. 
Eager  for  his  Times  Winnington  went  to  meet  him,  and 
the  man  put  into  his  hands  what  looked  like  a  large  post. 
He  carried  it  off  into  the  shelter  of  the  pines,  for  the 
sun  was  already  blazing  on  the  hotel.  Two  or  three 
letters  on  county  business  he  ran  through  first.  His 
own  pet  project,  as  County  Councillor, —  a  county 
school    for   crippled   children,   was   at   last   getting   on. 


Delia  Blanchflower  23 

Foundation  stone  to  be  laid  in  October  —  good !  "  But 
how  the  deuce  can  I  get  hold  of  some  more  women  to 
help  work  it!  Scandalous,  how  few  of  the  right  sort 
there  are  about !  And  as  for  the  Asylums  Committee, 
if  we  really  can't  legally  co-opt  women  to  it,  as  our 
clerk  says  " —  he  looked  again  at  a  letter  in  his  hand  — 
*'  the  law  is  an  ass !  —  a  double-dyed  ass.  I  swear  I 
won't  visit  those  poor  things  on  the  women's  side  again. 
It's  women's  work  —  let  them  do  it.  The  questions  I 
have  to  ask  are  enough  to  make  an  old  gamp  blush. 
Hallo,  what's  this?" 

He  turned  over  a  large  blue  envelope,  and  looked  at 
a  name  stamped  across  the  back.  It  was  the  name  of  a 
well-known  firm  of  London  solicitors.  But  he  had  no 
dealings  with  them,  and  could  not  imagine  why  they 
should  have  written  to  him. 

He  opened  the  letter  carelessly,  and  began  to  read 
it, —  presently  with  eager  attention,  and  at  last  with 
amazement. 

It  ran  as  follows : 

"  From  Messrs.  Morton,  IManners  &  Lathom, 
Solicitors, 
Adelphi, 

London,  W.C. 
"  Dear  Sir, —  We  write  on  behalf  of  Lord  Frederick  Cal- 
verly,  your  co-executor,  under  Sir  Robert  Blanchflower's 
will,  to  inform  you  tliat  in  Sir  Robert's  last  will  and  testa- 
ment —  of  which  we  enclose  a  copy  —  executed  at  Meran 
six  weeks  before  his  decease,  you  are  named  as  one  of  his 
two  executors,  as  sole  trustee  of  his  property,  and  sole 
guardian  of  Sir  Robert's  daughter  and  only  child.  Miss 
Delia  Blanchflower,  until  she  attains  the  age  of  twenty- 
five.  We  believe  that  this  will  be  a  complete  surprise  to 
you,  for  although  Sir  Robert,  according  to  a  statement  he 


24  Delia  Blanchflower 

made  during  his  last  illness  to  liis  sister.  Miss  Elizabeth 
Blanchflower,  intended  to  communicate  with  you  before 
signing  the  will,  his  weakness  increased  so  rapidly,  after 
it  was  finally  drawn  up,  that  he  was  never  able  to  do  so. 
Indeed  the  morning  after  his  secretary  had  written  out  a 
clear  copy  of  what  he  himself  had  put  together,  he  had  a 
most  alarming  attack  from  which  he  rallied  with  difficulty. 
That  afternoon  he  signed  the  will,  and  was  just  able  to 
write  you  the  letter  which  we  also  enclose,  marked  by  him- 
self, as  you  will  see.  He  was  never  properly  conscious 
afterv/ards,  and  he  died  in  Paris  last  Thursday,  and  was 
buried  in  the  Protestant  cemetery  at  Mont  Parnasse  on  the 
Saturday  following.  The  will  which  was  in  our  custody 
was  opened  in  London  yesterday,  by  Lord  Frederick  Cal- 
verly,  in  Miss  Blanchflower's  presence.  We  understand 
from  her  that  she  has  already  written  to  you  on  the  subject. 
Lord  Frederick  would  also  have  done  so,  but  that  he  has 
just  gone  to  Harrogate,  in  a  very  poor  state  of  health.  He 
begs  us  to  say  that  he  is  of  course  quite  aware  that  your 
engagements  may  not  allow  you  to  accept  the  functions 
offered  you  under  the  will,  and  that  he  will  be  in  consider- 
able anxiety  until  he  knows  your  decision.  He  hopes  that 
you  will  at  least  accept  the  executorship;  and  indeed  ven- 
tures to  appeal  very  strongly  on  that  accoimt  to  your  old 
friendship  for  Sir  Robert;  as  he  himself  sees  no  prospect 
of  being  able  to  carry  out  unaided  the  somewhat  heavy 
responsibilities  attaching  to  the  office. 

"  You  will  see  that  a  sum  of  ^iOOO  is  left  to  yourself 
under  the  will. 

"  V/e  remain,  dear  Sir, 

"  Your  obedient  servants, 

"  Morton,  Manners  &  Lathom. 
"(Solicitors.)" 
**  Mark  Winnington,  Esq.,  J. P. 
Bridge  End,  Maumsey, 
Hants." 


Delia  Blanchflower  25* 

A  bulk}'  document  on  blue  paper,  and  also  a  letter 
had  dropped  to  the  ground.  Winnington  stooped  for 
the  letter,  and  turned  it  over  in  stupification.  It  was 
addressed  in  a  faltering  hand,  and  marked,  "  To  be 
forwarded  after  my  death."     He  hastily  broke  the  seal. 

"  My  dear  Mark  Winnington, —  I  know  well  what  I  am 
laying  upon  you.  I  have  no  right  to  do  it.  But  I  remember 
certain  days  in  the  past,  and  I  believe  if  you  are  still  the 
same  man  you  were  then,  you  will  do  what  I  ask.  My 
daughter  ought  to  be  a  fine  woman.  At  present  she  seems  to 
me  entirely  and  completely  out  of  her  mind.  She  has  been 
captured  by  the  extreme  suffrage  movement,  and  by  one  of 
the  most  mischievous  women  in  it;  and  I  have  no  influence 
with  her  whatever.  I  live  in  terror  of  what  she  may  do; 
of  what  they  may  lead  her  to  do.  To  attempt  to  reason 
with  her  is  useless ;  and  for  a  long  time  my  health  has  been 
such  that  I  have  avoided  conflict  with  her  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. But  things  have  now  come  to  such  a  pass  that  some- 
thing must  be  done,  and  I  have  tried  in  these  last  weeks, 
ill  as  I  am,  to  face  the  future.  I  want  if  I  can  to  save 
Delia  from  Avasting  herself,  and  the  money  and  estates 
I  should  naturally  leave  her,  upon  this  mad  campaign.  I 
want,  even  against  her  will,  to  give  her  someone  to  advise 
and  help  her.  I  feel  bitterly  that  I  have  done  neither. 
The  tropics  ruined  me  physically,  and  I  seem  to  have  gone 
to  pieces  altogether  the  last  few  years.  But  I  love  my 
child,  and  I  can't  leave  her  without  a  real  friend  or  sup- 
port in  the  world.  I  have  no  near  relations,  except  my  sis- 
ter Elizabeth,  and  she  and  Delia  are  always  at  feud. 
Freddie  Calverly  my  cousin,  is  a  good  fellow  in  his  way, 
though  too  fussy  about  his  health.  He  has  a  fair  knowledge 
of  business,  and  he  would  have  been  hurt  if  I  had  not  made 
him  executor.  So  I  have  appointed  him,  and  have  of 
course  left  him  a  little  money.  But  he  could  no  more  tackle 
Delia  than  fly.     In  the  knock-about  life  we  have  led  since 


26  Delia  Blanchflower 

I  left  the  Colonial  Service,  I  seem  to  have  shed  all  my  old 
friends.  I  can  think  of  no  one  who  could  or  would  help 
me  in  this  strait  but  you  —  and  you  know  why.  God  bless 
you  for  what  you  once  did  for  me.  There  was  never  any 
other  cloud  between  my  poor  wife  and  me.  She  turned 
to  me  after  that  trouble,  and  we  were  happy  till  the  end. 

"  I  have  heard  too  something  of  you  from  Maumsey  peo- 
ple, since  I  inherited  Maumsey,  though  I  have  never  been 
able  to  go  there.  I  know  what  your  neighbours  think  of 
you.  And  now  Delia  is  going  to  be  your  neighbour.  So, 
drawing  a  bow  at  a  venture,  as  a  dying  man  must,  I  have 
made  you  Delia's  guardian  and  trustee,  with  absolute  power 
over  her  property  and  income  till  she  is  twenty-five.  When 
slie  attains  that  age  —  she  is  now  nearly  twenty-two  —  if 
she  marries  a  man  approved  by  you,  or  if  you  are  satisfied 
that  her  connection  with  militant  sufFragism  has  ceased,  the 
property  is  to  be  handed  over  to  her  in  full  possession,  and 
the  trust  will  come  to  an  end.  If  on  the  contrary,  she  con- 
tinues in  her  present  opinion  and  course  of  action,  I  have 
left  directions  that  the  trust  is  to  be  maintained  for  Delia's 
life-time,  under  certain  conditions  as  to  her  maintenance, 
which  you  will  find  in  the  will.  If  you  yourself  are  not 
willing  to  administer  the  trust,  either  now  or  later,  the 
property  will  devolve  to  the  Public  Trustee,  for  whom  full 
instructions  are  left.  And  at  Delia's  death  it  will  be  di- 
vided among  her  heirs,  if  she  has  any,  and  various  public 
objects. 

"  I  cannot  go  further  into  details.  My  strength  is  almost 
out.  But  this  one  thing  may  I  beg?  —  if  you  become  my 
child's  guardian,  get  the  right  person  to  live  with  her.  I 
regard  that  as  all-important.  She  must  have  a  chaperon, 
and  she  will  try  to  set  up  one  of  the  violent  women  who 
have  divided  her  from  me.  Especially  am  I  in  dread  of  a 
lady,  an  English  lady,  a  Miss  Marvell,  whom  I  engaged 
two  years  ago  to  stay  with  us  for  the  winter  and  read  his- 
tory with  Delia.  She  is  very  able  and  a  very  dangerous 
woman,  prepared  I  believe,  to  go  to  any  length  on  behalf 


Delia  Bla^ichflower  27 

of  her  '  cause.'  At  any  rate  she  filled  Delia's  head  with 
the  wildest  suffragist  notions,  and  since  then  my  poor  child 
thinks  of  nothing  else.  Even  since  I  have  been  so  ill  — 
this  last  few  weeks  —  I  know  she  has  been  in  communica- 
tion with  this  woman.  She  sympathises  with  all  the  hor- 
rible things  they  do,  and  I  am  certain  she  gives  all  the 
money  she  can  to  their  funds.  Delia  is  a  splendid  crea- 
ture, but  she  is  vain  and  excitable  and  they  court  her.  I 
feel  that  they  might  tempt  her  into  any  madness. 

"  Goodbye.  I  made  the  doctor  give  me  strychnine  and 
morphia  enough  to  carry  me  through  this  effort.  I  expect 
it  will  be  the  last.  Help  me,  and  my  girl  —  if  you  can  — 
for  old  sake's  sake.     Goodbye. 

Your  grateful  old  friend, 

"  Robert  Blanchflower." 

"  Good  heavens !  "  was  all  Winnington  could  find  to 
say,  as  he  put  down  the  letter. 

Then,  becoming  aware,  as  the  verandah  filled  after 
breakfast,  that  he  was  in  a  very  public  place,  he  hastily 
rose,  thrust  the  large  solicitor's  envelope,  with  its  bulky 
enclosures  into  his  coat  pocket,  and  proceeded  to  gather 
up  the  rest  of  his  post.  As  he  did  so,  he  suddenly  per- 
ceived a  black-edged  letter,  addressed  in  a  remarkably 
clear  handwriting,  with  the  intertwined  initials  D.B.  in 
the  corner. 

A  fit  of  silent  laughter,  due  to  his  utter  bewilderment, 
shook  him.  He  put  the  letter  with  all  its  fellows  into 
another  pocket  and  hurried  awaj'  into  the  solitude  of  the 
woods.  It  was  some  time  before  he  had  succeeded  in 
leaving  all  the  tourists'  paths  and  scats  behind.  At 
last  in  a  green  space  of  bilberry  and  mossy  rock,  with 
the  pines  behind  him,  and  the  chain  of  the  Dolomites, 
sun-bathed,  in  front,  he  opened  and  read  his  "  ward's  " 
first  letter  to  him. 


28  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Dear  Mr.  Winnington, —  I  understood  —  though  very 
imperfectly  —  from  my  father,  before  he  died,  that  he  had 
appointed  you  my  guardian  and  trustee  till  I  should  reach 
the  age  of  twenty-five,  and  he  explained  to  me  so  far  as  he 
could  his  reason  for  such  a  step.  And  now  I  have  of  course 
read  the  will,  and  the  solicitors  have  explained  to  me  clearly 
what  it  all  means. 

"  You  will  admit  I  think  that  I  am  placed  in  a  very 
hard  position.  If  my  poor  father  had  not  been  so  ill,  I 
should  certainly  have  tried  to  argue  with  him,  and  to  prevent 
his  doing  anything  so  unnecessary  and  unjust  as  he  has 
now  done  —  unj  ust  both  to  you  and  to  me.  But  the  doc- 
tors absolutely  forbade  me  to  discuss  any  business  with 
him,  and  I  could  do  nothing.  I  can  only  hope  that  the 
last  letter  he  wrote  to  you,  just  before  his  death,  and  the 
alterations  he  made  in  his  will  about  the  same  time,  gave 
him  some  comfort.  If  so,  I  do  not  grudge  them  for  one 
moment. 

"  But  now  you  and  I  have  to  consider  this  matter  as 
sensible  people,  and  I  suggest  that  for  a  man  who  is  a 
complete  stranger  to  me,  and  probably  altogether  out  of 
sympathy  with  the  ideas  and  principles,  I  believe  in  and 
am  determined  to  act  upon  —  (for  otherwise  my  fatlier 
would  not  have  chosen  j'ou)  —  to  undertake  the  manage- 
ment of  ray  life  and  affairs,  would  be  really  grotesque.  It 
must  lead  to  endless  friction  and  trouble  between  us.  If 
you  refuse,  the  solicitors  tell  me,  the  Public  Trustee  ■ — 
which  seems  to  be  a  government  office  —  will  manage  the 
property,  and  the  Court  of  Chancery  will  appoint  a  guardian 
in  accordance  Avith  my  father's  wishes.  That  would  be  bad 
enough,  considering  that  I  am  of  full  age  and  in  my  riglit 
mind  —  I  can't  promise  to  give  a  guardian  chosen  in  such 
a  way,  a  good  time.  But  at  any  rate,  it  would  be  less 
odious  to  fight  a  court  and  an  office,  if  I  must  fight,  than  a 
gentleman  who  is  my  near  neighbour  in  the  county,  and 
was  my  father's  and  mother's  friend.  I  do  hope  you  will 
think  this  over  very  carefull}'^,  and  will  relieve  both  your- 


Delia  Blanchflower  29 

self  and  me  from  an  impossible  state  of  things.  I  per- 
fectly realise  of  course  that  my  father  appointed  you  my 
guardian,  in  order  to  prevent  me  from  making  certain 
friends,  and  doing  certain  things.  But  I  do  not  admit 
the  right  of  any  human  being  —  not  even  a  father  —  to 
dictate  the  life  of  another.  I  intend  to  stick  to  my  friends, 
and  to  do  what  my  conscience  directs. 

"  Should  you  however  accept  the  guardianship  —  after 
this  candid  statement  of  mine  —  you  will,  I  suppose,  feel 
bound  to  carry  out  my  father's  wishes  by  refusing  me 
money  for  the  purposes  he  disapproved.  He  told  me  in- 
deed that  I  should  be  wholly  dependent  on  my  guardian  for 
money  during  the  next  three  years,  even  though  I  have 
attained  my  legal  majority.  I  can  say  to  you  what  I  could 
not  say  to  him,  that  I  bitterly  resent  an  arrangement  which 
treats  a  grown  person  like  a  child.  Such  things  are  not 
done  to  men.  It  is  only  women  who  are  the  victims  of 
them.  It  would  be  impossible  to  keep  up  friendly  relations 
with  a  guardian,  who  would  really  only  be  there  —  only 
exist  —  to  thwart  and  coerce  me. 

"  Let  me  point  out  that  at  the  very  beginning  a  differ- 
ence must  arise  between  us,  about  the  lady  I  am  to  live  with. 
I  have  chosen  my  chaperon  already,  as  it  was  my  moral, 
if  not  my  legal  right  to  do.  But  I  am  quite  aware  that 
my  father  disapproved  of  her,  and  that  you  will  probably 
take  the  same  view.  She  belongs  to  a  militant  suffrage 
society,  and  is  prepared  at  any  moment  to  suffer  for  the 
great  cause  she  and  I  believe  in.  As  to  her  ability,  she  is 
one  of  the  cleverest  women  in  England.  I  am  only  too 
proud  that  she  has  consented  —  for  a  time  —  to  share  my 
life,  and  nothing  will  induce  me  to  part  with  her  —  as  long 
as  she  consents  to  stay.  But  of  course  I  know  what  you  — 
or  any  ordinary  man  —  is  likely  to  think  of  her. 

"  No !  —  we  cannot  agree  —  it  is  impossible  we  should 
agree  —  as  guardian  and  ward.  If  indeed,  for  the  sake 
of  your  old  friendship  with  my  father,  you  would  retain 
the  executorship  —  I  am  sure  Lord  Frederick  Calverly  will 


30  Delia  Blanchflower 

be  no  sort  of  use !  —  till  the  affairs  of  the  will,  death- 
duties,  debts,  and  so  on,  are  settled  —  and  would  at  the 
same  time  give  up  any  other  connection  with  the  property 
and  myself,  I  should  be  enormously  grateful  to  you.  And 
I  assure  you  I  should  be  very  glad  indeed  —  for  father's 
sake  —  to  have  your  advice  on  many  points  connected  with 
my  future  life;  and  I  should  be  all  the  more  ready  to  fol- 
low it,  if  you  had  renounced  your  legal  power  over  me. 

"  I  shall  be  much  obliged  if  you  will  make  your  decision 
as  soon  as  possible,  so  that  both  the  lawyer  and  I  may  know 
how  to  proceed. 

"  Yours   faithfully, 

"  Delia  Blanchflower." 

Mark  Wlnnington  put  down  the  letter.  Its  mixture 
of  defiance,  patronage  and  persuasion  —  its  young 
angry  cleverness  —  would  have  tickled  a  naturally 
strong  sense  of  humour  at  any  other  time.  But  really 
the  matter  was  too  serious  to  laugh  at. 

"  What  on  earth  am  I  to  do !  " 

He  sat  pondering,  his  mind  running  through  a  num- 
ber of  associated  thoughts,  of  recollections  old  and  new ; 
those  Indian  scenes  of  fifteen  years  ago;  the  story  told 
him  by  the  Swedish  lady ;  recent  incidents  and  happen- 
ings in  English  politics ;  and  finally  the  tone  in  which 
Euphrosyne's  father  had  described  the  snatching  of 
his  own  innocent  from  the  clutches  of  Miss  Blanch- 
flower. 

Then  it  occurred  to  him  to  look  at  the  will.  He 
read  it  through ;  a  tediqus  business ;  for  Sir  Robert  had 
been  a  wealthy  man  and  the  possessions  bequeathed  — 
conditionally  bequeathed  —  to  his  daughter  were  many 
and  various.  Two  or  three  thousand  acres  of  land  in 
one  of  the  southern  counties,  bordering  on  the  New 
Forest;  certain  large  interests   in   Cleveland  ironstone 


Delia  Blanchflovver  31 

and  Durham  collieries,  American  and  South  African 
shares,  Canadian  mortgage  and  raihvay  debentures :  — 
there  was  enough  to  give  lawyers  and  executors  work 
for  some  time,  and  to  provide  large  pickings  for  the 
Exchequer.  Among  the  legacies,  he  noticed  the  legacy 
of  £4000  to  himself. 

"Payment  for  the  job!"  he  thought,  and  shook  his 
head,  smiling. 

The  alternative  arrangements  made  for  transferring 
the  trust  to  the  Public  Trustee,  should  Winnington 
decline,  and  for  vesting  the  guardianship  of  the  daugh- 
ter in  the  Court  of  Chancery,  subject  to  the  directions 
of  the  will,  till  she  should  reach  the  age  of  twenty-five, 
were  clear;  so  also  was  the  provision  that  unless  a  spe- 
cific signed  undertaking  was  given  by  the  daughter  on 
attaining  her  twent3^-fifth  birthday,  that  the  moneys  of 
the  estate  would  not  be  applied  to  the  support  of  the 
"  militant  suffrage  "  propaganda,  the  trust  was  to  be 
made  permanent,  a  life  income  of  £2000  a  year  was  to  be 
settled  on  Miss  Blanchflower,  and  the  remainder,  i.e. 
by  far  the  major  part  of  Sir  Robert's  property,  was  to 
accumulate,  for  the  benefit  of  his  daughter's  heirs  should 
she  have  any,  and  of  various  public  objects.  Should 
Miss  Blanchflower  sign  the  undertaking  and  aftei'wards 
break  it,  the  Public  Trustee  was  directed  to  proceed 
against  her,  and  to  claim  the  restitution  of  the  property, 
subject  always  to  her  life  allowance. 

"  Pretty  well  tied  up,"  thought  Winnington,  marvel- 
ling at  the  strength  of  feeling,  the  final  exasperation  of 
a  dying  man,  which  the  will  betrayed.  His  daughter 
must  somehow  —  perhaps  without  realising  it  —  have 
wounded  him  to  the  heart. 

He  began  to  climb  again  through  the  forest  that  he 
might  think  the  better.     What  would  be  the  situation, 


32  Delia  Blanchfiower 

supposing  he  undertook  what  his  old  friend  asked  of 
him? 

He  himself  was  a  man  of  moderate  means  and  settled 
habits.  His  small  estate  and  modest  house  which  a 
widowed  sister  shared  with  him  during  six  months  in 
the  year,  left  him  plenty  of  leisure  from  his  own  affairs, 
and  he  had  filled  that  leisure,  for  years  past,  to  over- 
flowing, with  the  various  kinds  of  public  work  that  fall 
to  the  country  gentleman  with  a  conscience.  He  was 
never  idle ;  his  work  interested  him,  and  there  was  no 
conceit  in  his  quiet  knowledge  that  he  had  many  friends 
and  much  influence.  Since  the  death  of  the  girl  to 
whom  he  had  been  engaged  for  sis  short  months,  fifteen 
years  before  this  date,  he  had  never  thought  of  mar- 
riage. The  circumstances  of  her  death  —  a  terrible 
case  of  lingering  typhoid  —  had  so  burnt  the  pity  of 
her  suflTering  and  the  beauty  of  her  courage  into  his 
mind,  that  natural  desire  seemed  to  have  died  with  her. 
He  had  turned  to  hard  work  and  the  bar,  and  equally 
hard  physical  exercise,  and  so  made  himself  master  both 
of  his  grief  and  his  youth.  But  his  friendships  with 
women  had  played  a  great  part  in  his  subsequent  life. 
A  natural  chivalry,  deep  based,  and,  in  manner,  a  touch 
of  caressing  charm,  soon  evoked  by  those  to  whom  he 
was  attached,  and  not  easily  confounded  in  the  case  of 
a  man  so  obviously  manly  with  any  lack  of  self-control, 
had  long  since  made  him  a  favourite  of  the  sex.  There 
were  few  women  among  his  acquaintances  who  did  not 
covet  his  liking;  and  he  was  the  repository  of  far  more 
confidences  than  he  had  ever  desired.  No  one  took 
more  trouble  to  serve ;  and  no  one  more  carelessly  forgot 
a  service  he  had  himself  rendered,  or  more  tenaciously 
remembered  any  kindness  done  him  by  man,  woman  or 
child. 


Delia  Blanchflower  33 

His  admiration  for  women  was  mingled  indeed  often 
with  profound  pit}' ;  pity  for  the  sorrows  and  burdens 
that  nature  had  laid  upon  them,  for  their  physical  weak- 
ness, for  their  passive  role  in  life.  That  beings  so  ham- 
pered could  yet  play  such  tender  and  heroic  parts  was 
to  him  perennially  wonderful,  and  his  sense  of  it  ex- 
pressed itself  in  an  unconscious  homage  that  seemed  to 
embrace  the  sex.  That  the  homage  was  not  seldom 
wasted  on  persons  quite  unworthy  of  it,  his  best  women 
friends  were  not  slow  to  see ;  but  in  this  he  was  often 
obstinate  and  took  his  own  way. 

This  mingling  in  him  of  an  unfailing  interest  in  the 
sex  with  an  entire  absence  of  personal  craving,  gave 
him  a  singularly  strong  position  with  regard  to  women, 
of  which  he  had  never  yet  taken  any  selfish  advantage ; 
largely,  no  doubt,  because  of  the  many  activities,  most 
of  them  disinterested,  by  which  his  life  was  fed  and 
freshened ;  as  a  lake  is  by  the  streams  which  fill  it. 

He  was  much  moved  by  his  old  friend's  letter,  and  he 
walked  about  pondering  it,  till  the  morning  was  almost 
gone.  The  girl's  position  also  seemed  to  him  particu- 
larly friendless  and  perilous,  though  she  herself,  ap- 
parently, would  be  the  last  person  to  think  so,  could 
she  only  shake  herself  free  from  the  worrying  restric- 
tions her  father  had  inflicted  on  her.  Her  letter,  and 
its  thinly  veiled  wrath,  shewed  quite  plainly  that  the 
task  of  any  guardian  would  be  a  tough  one.  Miss 
Blanchflower  was  evidently  angry  —  very  angry  —  yet 
at  the  same  time  determined,  if  she  could,  to  play  a  dig- 
nified part;  ready,  that  is,  to  be  ci^^l,  on  her  own  con- 
ditions. The  proposal  to  instal  as  her  chaperon,  in- 
stantly, without  a  day's  delay,  the  very  woman  de- 
nounced in  her  father's  last  letter,  struck  him  as  first 
outrageous,  and  then  comic.     He  laughed  aloud  over  it. 


34  Delia  Blanchflower 

Certainly  —  he  was  not  bound  in  any  way  to  under- 
take such  a  business.  Blanchflower  had  spoken  the 
truth  when  he  said  that  he  had  no  right  to  ask  it.     And 

yet  — 

His  mind  dallied  with  it.  Suppose  he  undertook 
it,  on  what  lines  could  he  possibly  run  it?  His  feeling 
towards  the  violent  phase  of  the  "  woman's  movement," 
the  militancy  which  during  the  preceding  three  or  four 
3^ears  had  produced  a  crop  of  outrages  so  surprising  and 
so  ugly,  was  probably  as  strong  as  Blanchflower's  own. 
He  was  a  natural  Conservative,  and  a  trained  lawyer. 
Methods  of  violence  in  a  civilised  and  constitutional 
State,  roused  in  him  indignant  abhorrence.  He  could 
admit  no  excuse  for  them;  at  any  rate  no  justification. 

But,  fundamentally?  What  was  his  real  attitude 
towards  this  wide-spread  claim  of  women,  now  so  gen- 
eral in  many  parts  of  the  world  admitted  indeed  in 
some  English  Colonies,  in  an  increasing  number  of  the 
American  states,  in  some  of  the  minor  European  coun- 
tries —  to  share  the  public  powers  and  responsibilities 
of  men?  Had  he  ever  faced  the  problem,  as  it  con- 
cerned England,  with  any  thoroughness  or  candour? 
Yet  perhaps  Englishmen  —  all  Englishmen  —  had  now 
got  to  face  it. 

Could  he  discover  any  root  of  sympathy  in  himself 
with  what  were  clearly  the  passionate  beliefs  of  Delia 
Blanchflower,  the  Valkyrie  of  twenty-one,  as  they  were 
also  the  passionate  beliefs  of  the  little  Swedish  lady,  the 
blue-stocking  of  fifty?  If  so,  it  might  be  possible  to 
guide,  even  to  control  such  a  ward,  for  the  specified 
three  years,  at  any  rate,  without  exciting  unseemly  and 
ridiculous  strife  between  her  and  her  guardian. 

"  I  ought  to  be  able  to  do  it  " —  he  thought  — "  with- 
out upsetting  the  apple-cart !  *' 


Delia  Blanchflower  3^ 

For,  as  he  examined  himself  he  reahsed  that  he  held 
no  closed  mind  on  the  subject  of  the  rights  or  powers 
or  grievances  of  women.  He  had  taken  no  active  part 
whatever  in  the  English  suffragist  struggle,  either 
against  woman  suffrage  or  for  it ;  and  in  his  own  coun- 
tryside it  mattered  comparatively  little.  But  he  was 
well  aware  what  strong  forces  and  generous  minds  had 
been  harnessed  to  the  suffrage  cause,  since  Mill  first 
set  it  stirring;  and  among  his  dearest  women  friends 
there  were  some  closely  connected  with  it,  who  had  often 
mocked  or  blamed  his  own  indifference.  He  had  always 
thought  indeed,  and  he  thought  still  —  for  many  rea- 
sons —  that  they  attributed  a  wildly  exaggerated  im- 
portance to  the  vote,  which,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  went  a 
very  short  way  in  the  case  of  men.  But  he  had  always 
been  content  to  let  the  thing  slide;  having  so  much  else 
to  do  and  think  about. 

Patience  then,  and  respect  for  honest  and  disinter- 
ested conviction,  in  any  young  and  ardent  soul ;  sharp 
discrimination  between  lawful  and  unlawful  means  of 
propaganda,  between  debate,  and  stone- throwing ;  no 
interference  with  the  first,  and  a  firm  hand  against  the 
second :  —  surely,  in  that  spirit,  one  might  make  some- 
thing of  the  problem?  Winnington  was  accustomed  to 
be  listened  to,  to  get  round  obstacles  that  other  men 
found  insuperable.  It  was  scarcely  conceit,  but  a  just 
self-confidence  which  suggested  to  him  that  perhaps 
Miss  Blanchflower  would  not  prove  so  difficult  after  all. 
Gentleness,  diplomacy,  decision, —  by  Jove,  they'd  all 
be  wanted !  But  his  legal  experience  (he  had  been  for 
some  years  a  busy  barrister),  and  his  later  life  as  a  prac- 
tical administrator  had  not  been  a  bad  training  in  each 
and  all  of  these  qualities. 

Of  course,  if  the  girl  were  merely  obstinate  and  stupid, 


36  Delia  Blanchflower 

the  case  might  indeed  be  hopeless.  But  the  picture 
drawn  by  the  Swedish  woman  of  the  "  Valkyrie  "  on  her 
black  mare,  of  the  ardent  young  lecturer,  facing  her  in- 
different or  hostile  audience  with  such  pluck  and  spirit, 
dwelt  with  him,  and  affected  him  strongly.  His  face 
broke  into  amusement  as  he  asked  him.self  the  frank 
question  — "  Would  j^ou  do  it,  if  you  hadn't  heard  that 
tale.^^  —  if  you  knew  that  your  proposed  ward  was  just 
a  plain  troublesome  chit  of  a  schoolgirl,  bitten  with 
suffragism.P  " 

He  put  the  question  to  himself,  standing  on  a  pinnacle 
of  shadowed  rock,  from  which  the  world  seemed  to  sink 
into  blue  gulfs  beneath  him,  till  on  the  farther  side  of 
immeasurable  space  the  mountains  re-emerged,  climb- 
ing to  the  noonday  sun. 

And  he  answered  it  without  hesitation.  Certainly, 
the  story  told  him  had  added  a  touch  of  romance  to  the 
bare  case  presented  by  the  batch  of  letters :  —  had 
lent  a  force  and  point  to  Robert  Blanchflower's  dying 
plea,  it  might  not  otherwise  have  possessed.  For,  after 
all,  he,  Winnington,  was  a  very  busy  man ;  and  his  life 
was  already  mortgaged  in  many  directions.  But  as  it 
was  —  yes  —  the  task  attracted  him. 

At  the  same  time,  the  twinkle  in  his  grey  eyes  shewed 
him  ironically  aware  of  himself. 

"  Understand,  you  old  fool !  —  the  smallest  touch  of 
philandering  —  and  the  whole  business  goes  to  pot. 
The  girl  would  have  you  at  her  mercy  —  and  the  thing 
would  become  an  odious  muddle  and  hypocrisy,  degrad- 
ing to  both.  Can  you  trust  yourself?  You're  not  ex- 
actly made  of  flint :  Can  you  play  the  part  as  it  ought 
to  be  played  ? 

Quietly,  his  face  sank  into  rest.  For  him,  there  was 
that  In  memory,  which  protected  him  from  all  such  risks, 


Delia  Blanchflower  37 

which  had  so  protected  him  for  fifteen  years.  He  felt 
quite  sure  of  himself.  Ever  since  his  great  loss  he  had 
found  his  natural  allies  and  companions  among  girls  and 
young  women  as  much  as  among  men.  The  embarrass- 
ment of  sex  seemed  to  have  passed  away  for  him,  but 
not  the  charm.  Thus,  he  took  what  for  him  was  the 
easier  path  of  acceptance.  Kindly  and  scrupulous  as 
he  was,  it  would  have  been  hard  for  him  in  any  case  to 
say  No  to  the  dead,  more  difficult  than  to  say  it  to  the 
living.  Yes  !  —  he  would  do  what  was  possible.  The 
Times  that  morning  contained  a  long  list  of  outrages 
committed  by  militant  suffragists  —  houses  burnt  down, 
meetings  disturbed,  members  attacked.  In  a  few 
months,  or  weeks,  perhaps,  without  counsel  to  aid  or 
authority  to  warn  her,  the  Valkyrie  might  be  running 
headlong  into  all  the  perils  her  father  foresaw.  He 
pledged  himself  to  protect  her  if  he  could. 

The  post  which  left  the  hotel  that  evening  took  with 
it  a  short  note  from  Mark  Winnington  to  Messrs.  Mor- 
ton, Manners  &  Lathom,  accepting  the  functions  of 
executor,  guardian  and  trustee  offered  him  under  Sir 
Robert  Blanchflower's  will,  and  appointing  an  inter- 
view with  them  at  their  office ;  together  with  a  some- 
what longer  one  addressed  to  "  INIiss  Delia  Blanchflower, 
Claridge's  Hotel,  London. 

"  Dear  Miss  Blanchflower,  Pray  let  me  send  you  my 
most  sincere  condolence.  Your  poor  father  and  I  were 
once  great  friends,  and  I  am  most  truly  sorry  to  hear  of 
his  death. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  interesting  letter.  But  I  find  it 
impossible  to  refuse  your  father's  dying  request  to  me,  nor 
can  I  believe  that  I  cannot  be  of  some  assistance  to  his 
daughter.     Let  me  try.     We  can  always  give  it  up,  if  we 


38 


Delia  Blanchflower 


cannot  work  it,  but  I   see  no  reason  why,  with  good  will 
on  both  sides,  we  should  not  make  something  of  it. 

"  I  am  returning  to  London  ten  days  from  now,  and 
hope  to  see  you  within  a  fortnight. 

"  Please  address,  '  Junior  Carlton  Club,  Pall  Mall.' 
Believe  me. 

Yours  very  truly, 

"  Mark  Winnington." 

On  his  arrival,  in  London,  Winnington  found  a  short 
reply  awaiting  him. , 

"  Dear  Mr.  Winnington, —  As  you  please.  I  am  how- 
ever shortly  leaving  for  Maumsey  with  Miss  Marvell,  who, 
as  I  told  you,  has  undertaken  to  live  with  me  as  my 
chaperon. 

"  We  shall  hope  to  see  you  at  Maumsey. 
Yours  faithfully, 

"  Delia  Blanchflower." 

A  few  days  later,  after  long  interviews  with  some 
very  meticulous  solicitors,  a  gentleman,  very  much  in 
doubt  as  to  what  his  reception  would  be,  took  train  for 
Maumsey  and  the  New  Forest,  with  a  view  to  making  as 
soon  as  possible  a  first  call  upon  his  ward. 


Chapter  III 

<  *"\yl  7"-^  ought  soon  to  see  the  house." 

VV  The  speaker  bent  forward,  as  the  train, 
sweeping  round  a  curve,  emerged  from  some  thick  woods 
into  a  space  of  open  country.  It  was  early  September 
and  a  sleepy  autumnal  sunshine  lay  upon  the  fields.  The 
stubbles  just  reaped  ran  over  the  undulations  of  the 
land  in  silky  purples  and  gold ;  the  blue  smoke  from  the 
cottages  and  farms  hung  poised  in  mid  air ;  the  eye  could 
hardly  perceive  any  movement  in  the  clear  stream  beside 
the  line,  as  it  slipped  noiselessly  by  over  its  sandy  bed ; 
it  seemed  a  world  where  "  it  was  always  afternoon  "  ;  and 
the  only  breaks  in  its  sunny  silence  came  from  the  occa- 
sional coveys  of  partridges  that  rose  whirring  from  the 
harvest-fields  as  the  train  passed. 

Delia  Blanchflower  looked  keenly  at  the  English  scene, 
so  strange  to  her  after  many  years  of  Colonial  and  for- 
eign wandering.  She  thought,  but  did  not  say  — 
"  Those  must  be  my  fields  —  and  my  woods,  that  we  have 
just  passed  through.  Probably  I  rode  about  them  with 
Grandpapa.  I  remember  the  pony  —  and  the  horrid 
groom  I  hated !  "  Quick  the  memory  returned  of  a  tiny 
child  on  a  rearing  pony,  alone  with  a  sulky  groom,  who, 
out  of  his  master's  sight,  could  not  restrain  his  temper, 
and  struck  the  pony  savagely  and  repeatedly  over  the 
head,  to  an  accompaniment  of  oaths;  frightening  out 
of  her  wits  the  little  girl  who  sat  clinging  to  the  crea- 
ture's neck.  And  next  she  saw  herself  marching  in  erect 
—  a  pale-faced  thing  of  six,  with  a  heart  of  fury, —  to 

39 


40  Delia  Blanchflower 

her  grandfather,  to  demand  justice  on  the  offender. 
And  grandpapa  had  done  her  bidding  then  as  always ; 
the  groom  was  dismissed  that  day.  It  was  only  grand- 
mamma who  had  ever  tried  to  manage  or  thwart  her ;  re- 
sult, perpetual  war,  decided  often  for  the  time  by  the 
brute  force  at  command  of  the  elder,  but  ever  renewed. 
Delia's  face  flamed  again  as  she  thought  of  the  most 
humiliating  incident  of  her  childhood;  when  Grand- 
mamma, unable  to  do  anything  with  her  screaming  and 
stamping  self,  had  sent  in  despair  for  a  stalwart  young 
footman,  and  ordered  him  to  "  carry  Miss  Delia  up  to 
the  nursery."  Delia  could  still  feel  herself  held,  wrig- 
gling and  shrieking  face  downwards,  under  the  young 
man's  strong  arm,  unable  either  to  kick  or  to  scratch, 
while  Grandmamma  half  fearful,  half  laughing,  watched 
the  dire  ascent  from  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 

"  Male  tyranny  —  my  first  taste  of  it !  "  thought 
Delia,  smiling  at  herself.  "  It  was  fated  then  that  I 
should  be  a  militant." 

She  looked  across  at  her  friend  and  travelling  com- 
panion, half  inclined  to  tell  the  story ;  but  the  sight  of 
Gertrude  Marvell's  attitude  and  expression  checked  the 
trivial  reminiscence  on  her  lips. 

"  Are  you  tired.?  "  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  the 
other'.«!  knee. 

"  Oh,  no.     Only  thinking." 

"  Thinking  of  what?"— 

"  Of  all  there  is  to  do."— 

A  kind  of  flash  passed  from  one  face  to  the  other, 
Delia's  eyes  darkly  answering.  They  looked  at  each 
other  for  a  little,  as  though  in  silent  conversation,  and 
then  Delia  turned  again  to  the  landscape  outside. 

Yes,  there  was  the  house,  its  long,  irregular  line  with 
the  village  behind  it.      She  could  not  restrain  a  slight  ex- 


Delia  Blanchflower  41 

clamatlon  as  she  caught  sight  of  it,  and  her  friend  op- 
posite turned  interrogatively. 

"  What  did  you  say?  " 

"  Nothing  —  only  there's  the  Abbey.  I  don't  suppose 
I've  seen  it  since  I  was  twelve." 

The  other  lady  put  up  an  eye-glass  and  looked  where 
Miss  Blanchflower  pointed ;  but  languidly,  as  though  it 
were  an  effort  to  shake  herself  free  from  pre-occupjang 
ideas.  She  was  a  woman  of  about  thirty-five,  slenderly 
made,  with  a  sallow,  regular  face,  and  good,  though 
short-sighted  eyes.  The  eyes  were  dark,  so  was  the  hair, 
the  features  delicate.  Under  the  black  shady  hat,  the 
hair  was  very  closely  and  neatly  coiled.  The  high  col- 
lar of  the  white  blouse,  fitting  tightly  to  the  slender  neck, 
the  coat  and  skirt  of  blue  serge  without  ornament  of 
any  kind,  but  well  cut,  emphasized  the  thinness,  almost 
emaciation,  of  the  form.  Her  attitude,  dress,  and  ex- 
pression conveyed  the  idea  of  something  amazingly  taut 
and  ready  —  like  a  ship  cleared  for  action.  The  body 
with  its  clothing  seemed  to  have  been  simplified  as  much 
as  possible,  so  as  to  become  the  mere  instrument  of  the 
will  which  governed  it.  No  superfluity  whatever, 
whether  of  flesh  on  her  small  bones,  or  of  a  single  un- 
necessary button,  fold,  or  trimming  on  her  dress,  had 
Gertrude  Marvell  ever  allowed  herself  for  many  years. 
The  general  eff'ect  was  in  some  way  formidable ;  though 
why  the  neat  precision  of  the  little  lady  should  convey 
any  notion  of  this  sort,  it  would  not  at  first  sight  have 
been  easy  to  say. 

"  How  old  did  you  say  it  is .''  " —  she  asked,  after  ex- 
amining the  distant  building,  which  could  be  now  plainly 
seen  from  the  train  across  a  stretch  of  green  park. 

"  Oh,  the  present  building  is  nothing  —  a  pseudo- 
Gothic  monstrosity,  built  about  1830,"  laughed  Delia; 


42  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  but  there  are  some  old  remains  and  foundations  of  the 
abbey.  It  is  a  big,  rambling  old  place,  and  I  should 
think  dreadfully  in  want  of  doing  up.  My  grandfather 
was  a  bit  of  a  miser,  and  though  he  was  quite  rich,  he 
never  spent  a  penny  he  could  help." 

"  All  the  better.  He  left  the  more  for  other  people 
to  spend."  Miss  Marvell  smiled  —  a  sHght,  and  rather 
tired  smile,  which  hardly  altered  the  face. 

"  Yes,  if  they  are  allowed  to  spend  it !  "  said  Delia, 
with  a  shrug.  "  Oh  well,  anyway  the  house  must  be  done 
up  —  painted  and  papered  and  that  kind  of  thing.  A 
trustee  has  got  to  see  that  things  of  that  sort  are  kept 
in  order,  I  suppose.  But  it  won't  have  anything  to  do 
with  me,  except  that  for  decency's  sake,  no  doubt,  he'll 
consult  me.  I  shall  be  allowed  to  choose  the  wall-papers 
I  suppose !  " 

"  If  you  want  to,"  said  the  other  drily. 

Delia's  brows  puckered. 

"  We  shall  have  to  spend  some  time  here,  you  know, 
Gertrude !     We  may  as  well  have  something  to  do." 

"  Nothing  that  might  entangle  us,  or  take  too  much 
of  our  thoughts,"  said  Miss  Marvell,  gently,  but  de- 
cidedly. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  like  furnishing,"  said  Delia,  not  with- 
out a  shade  of  defiance. 

"  And  I  object  —  because  I  know  you  do.  After  all 
—  you  understand  as  well  as  I  do  that  every  day  now  is 
important.  There  are  not  so  many  of  us,  Delia !  If 
you're  going  to  do  real  work,  you  can't  afford  to  spend 
your  time  or  thoughts  on  doing  up  a  shabby  house." 

There  was  silence  a  moment.  Then  Delia  said 
abruptly  — "  I  wonder  when  that  man  will  turn  up  ? 
What  a  fool  he  is  to  take  it  on !  " 

"  The  guardianship  ?     Yes,  he  hardly  knows  what  he's 


Delia  Blanchflower  43 

in  for."  A  touch  of  grim  amusement  shewed  itself  for  a 
moment  in  Miss  Marvell's  quiet  face. 

"  Oh,  I  daresay  he  knows.  Perhaps  he  rehes  on  what 
everyone  calls  his  '  influence.'  Nasty,  sloppy  word  — 
nasty  sloppy  thing !  Whenever  I'm  *  influenced,'  I'm 
degraded !  "  The  young  shoulders  straightened  them- 
selves fiercely. 

"  I  don't  know.  It  has  its  uses,"  said  the  other 
tranquilly. 

Delia  laughed  radiantly. 

"  Oh  well  —  if  one  can  make  the  kind  of  weapon  of 
it  you  do.  I  don't  mean  of  course  that  one  shouldn't  be 
rationally  persuaded.  But  that's  a  diff'erent  thing. 
*  Influence  '  makes  me  think  of  canting  clergymen,  and 
stout  pompous  women,  who  don't  know  what  they're 
talking  about,  and  can't  argue  —  who  think  they've  set- 
tled everything  by  a  stale  quotation  —  or  an  appeal 
to  '  your  better  self  ' —  or  St.  Paul.  If  Mr.  Winning- 
ton  tries  it  on  with  *  influence ' —  we'll  have  some 
fun." 

Delia  returned  to  her  window.  The  look  her  com- 
panion bent  upon  her  was  not  visible  to  her.  It  was 
curiously  detached  —  perhaps  slightly  ironical. 

"  I'm  wondering  what  part  I  shall  play  in  the  first 
interview !  "  said  Miss  Marvell,  after  a  pause,  "  I  rep- 
resent the  first  stone  in  Mr.  Winnington's  path.  He 
will  of  course  do  his  best  to  put  me  out  of  it." 

"  How  can  he?  "  cried  Delia  ardently.  "  What  can 
he  do.?  He  can't  send  for  the  police  and  turn  you  out 
of  the  house.  At  least  I  suppose  he  could,  but  he  cer- 
tainly won't.  The  last  thing  a  gentleman  of  his  sort 
wants  is  to  make  a  scandal.  Every  one  says,  after  all, 
that  he  is  a  nice  fellow !  " —  the  tone  was  unconsciously 
patronising  — "  It  isn't  his  fault  if  he's  been  placed  in 


44  Delia  Blanchflower 

this  false  position.  But  the  great  question  for  me  is 
—  how  are  we  going  to  manage  him  for  the  best?  " 

She  leant  forward,  her  chin  on  her  hands,  her  spar- 
kling eyes  fixed  on  her  friend's  face. 

"  The  awkward  thing  is  " —  mused  Miss  Marvell  — 
"  that  there  is  so  little  time  in  which  to  manage  him. 
If  the  movement  were  going  on  at  its  old  slow  pace» 
one  might  lie  low,  try  diplomacy,  avoid  alarming  him, 
and  so  forth.  But  we've  no  time  for  that.  It  is  a  case 
of  blow  on  blow  —  action  on  action  —  and  the  pub- 
licity is  half  the  battle." 

"  Still,  a  little  management  there  must  be,  to  beghi 
with !  —  because  I  —  we  —  want  money,  and  he  holds 
the  purse-strings.     Hullo,  here's  the  station !  " 

She  jumped  up  and  looked  eagerly  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

"  They've  sent  a  fly  for  us.  And  there's  the  station- 
master  on  the  look-out.     How  it  all  comes  back  to  me  !  " 

Her  flushed  cheek  showed  a  natural  excitement.  She 
was  coming  back  as  its  mistress  to  a  house  where  she 
had  been  happy  as  a  child,  which  she  had  not  seen  for 
years.  Thoughts  of  her  father,  as  he  had  been  in  the 
old  days  before  any  trouble  had  arisen  between  them, 
came  rushing  through  her  mind  —  tender,  regretful 
thoughts  —  as  the  train  came  slowly  to  a  standstill. 

But  the  entire  indifference  or  passivity  of  her  com- 
panion restrained  her  from  any  further  expression. 
The  train  stopped,  and  she  descended  to  the  platform 
of  a  small  country  station,  alive  apparently  with  traffic 
and  passengers. 

"  Miss  Blanchflower?  "  said  a  smiling  station-master, 
whose  countenance  seemed  to  be  trying  to  preserve  the 
due  mean  between  welcome  to  the  living  and  condolence 
for  the  dead,  as,  hat  in  hand,  he  approached  the  new- 


Delia  Blanchflower  45; 

comers,  and  guided  by  her  deep  mourning  addressed 
himself  to  Delia. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Stebbing,  I  remember  you  quite  well," 
said  Delia,  holding  out  her  hand.  "  There's  my  maid 
—  and  I  hope  there's  a  cart  for  the  luggage.  We've 
got  a  lot." 

A  fair-haired  man  in  spectacles,  who  had  also  just  left 
the  train,  turned  abruptly  and  looked  hard  at  the  group 
as  he  passed  them.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  then 
passed  on,  with  a  curious  swinging  gait,  a  long  and 
shabby  over-coat  floating  behind  him  —  to  speak  to  the 
porter  who  was  collecting  tickets  at  the  gate  opening 
on  the  road  bej^ond. 

Meanwhile  Delia  had  been  accosted  by  another  gen- 
tleman, who  had  been  sitting  reading  his  Morning  Post 
on  the  sunn}^  platform,  as  the  train  drew  up.  He  too 
had  examined  the  new  arrivals  with  interest,  and  while 
Delia  was  still  talking  to  the  station-master,  he  walked 
up  to  her. 

"  I  think  you  are  Miss  Blanchflower:  But  you  won't 
remember  me."     He  lifted  his  hat,  smiling. 

Delia  looked  at  him,  puzzled. 

"  Don't  you  remember  that  Christmas  dance  at  tlie 
Rectory,  when  you  were  ten,  and  I  was  home  from  Sand- 
hurst.?" 

"  Perfectly  !  —  and  I  quarrelled  with  you  because  you 
wouldn't  give  me  champagne,  when  I'd  danced  with 
you,  instead  of  lemonade.  You  said  what  was  good 
for  big  boys  wasn't  good  for  little  girls  —  and  I  called 
you  a  bully " 

"  You  kicked  mc !  —  you  had  the  sharpest  little 
toes !  " 

"  Did  I  ?"  said  Delia  composedly.  "  I  was  rather 
good  at  kicking.     So  you  are  Biily  Andrews.''" 


46  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Right.  I'm  Captain  now,  and  they've  just  made 
me  adjutant  down  here  for  the  Yeomanry.  My  mother 
keeps  house  for  me.  You're  coming  here  to  live? 
Please  let  me  say  how  sorry  I  was  to  see  your  sad  news." 
The  condolence  was  a  little  clumsy  but  sincere. 

"  Thank  you.  I  must  go  and  see  to  the  luggage. 
Let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss  Marvell  —  Captain 
Andrews  —  Miss  Marvell." 

That  lady  bowed  coldly,  as  Delia  departed.  The 
tall,  soldierly  man,  whose  pleasant  looks  were  some- 
what spoilt  by  a  slightly  underhung  mouth,  and  prom- 
inent chin,  disguised,  however,  by  a  fine  moustache,  of- 
fered assistance  with  the  luggage. 

"  There  is  no  need,  thank  you,"  said  Miss  Marvell. 
"  Miss  Blanchflower  and  her  maid  will  see  to  it." 

And  the  Captain  noticed  that  the  speaker  remained 
entirely  passive  while  the  luggage  was  being  collected 
and  piled  into  a  fly  by  the  porters,  directed  by  Miss 
Blanchflower  and  her  maid.  She  stood  quietly  on  the 
platform,  till  all  was  ready,  and  Delia  beckoned  to  her. 
In  the  interval  the  soldier  tried  to  make  conversation, 
but  with  very  small  success.  He  dwelt  upon  some  of 
the  changes  Miss  Blanchflower  would  find  on  the  estate ; 
how  the  old  head-keeper,  who  used  to  make  a  pet  of 
her,  was  dead,  and  the  new  agent  her  father  had  put 
in  was  thought  to  be  doing  well,  how  the  village  had 
lost  markedly  in  population  in  the  last  few  years  — 
this  emigration  to  Canada  was  really  getting  beyond  a 
joke!  —  and  so  forth.  Miss  Marvell  made  no  replies. 
But  she  suddenly  asked  him  a  question. 

"  What's  that  house  over  there?  " 

She  pointed  to  a  gi'ey  fa9ade  on  a  wooded  hill  some 
two  miles  off^." 

"  That's  our  show  place  —  Monk  Lawrence !     We're 


Delia  Blanchflower  47 

awfully  proud  of  it  —  Elizabethan,  and  that  kind  of 
thing.  But  of  course  you're  heard  of  Monk  Lawrence ! 
It's  one  of  the  finest  things  in  England." 

"  It  belongs  to   Sir  Wilfrid  Lang?  " 

"  Certainly.  Do  you  know  him.'*  He's  scarcely 
been  there  at  all,  since  he  became  a  Cabinet  Minister ; 
and  yet  he  spent  a  lot  of  money  in  repairing  it  a  few 
years  ago.  "  They  say  it's  his  wife's  health  —  that  it's 
too  damp  for  her.  Anyway  it's  quite  shut  up, —  except 
that  they  let  tourists  see  it  once  a  month." 

"  Does  anybody  live  in  the  house  .f*  " — 

"  Oh  —  a  caretaker,  of  course, —  one  of  the  keepers. 
They  let  the  shooting.  Ah !  there's  Miss  Blanchflower 
calling  you." 

Miss  Marvell  —  as  the  gallant  Captain  afterwards 
remembered  —  took  a  long  look  at  the  distant  house 
and  then  went  to  join  Miss  Blanchflower.  The  Captain 
accompanied  her,  and  helped  her  to  stow  away  the 
remaining  bags  into  the  fly,  while  a  small  concourse 
of  rustics,  sprung  from  nowhere,  stolidly  watched  the 
doings  of  the  heiress  and  her  friend.  Delia  suddenly 
bent  forward  to  him,  as  he  was  about  to  shut  the  door, 
with  an  animated  look  — "  Can  you  tell  me  who  that 
gentleman  is  who  has  just  walked  off  towards  the  vil- 
lage? " —  she  pointed. 

"  His  name  is  Lathrop.  He  lives  in  a  place  just  the 
other  side  of  yours.  He's  got  some  trout-hatching 
ponds  —  will  stock  anybody's  stream  for  them.  Rather 
a  queer  customer ! " —  the  good-natured  Captain 
dropped  his  voice.  "  Well,  good-bye,  my  train's  just 
coming.     I  hope  I  may  come  and  see  you  soon?  " 

Delia  nodded  assent,  and  they  drove  off. 

"  By  George,  she's  a  beauty !  "  said  the  Captain  to 
himself   as    he    turned    away.     "  Nothing   wrong   with 


48  Delia  Blanchflower 

her  that  I  can  see.  But  there  are  some  strange  tales 
going  about.  I  wonder  who  that  other  woman  is. 
Marvell.f'  —  Gertrude  Marvell?  —  I  seem  to  have  heard 
the  name  somewhere. —  Hullo,  Masham,  how  are  you?  " 
He  greeted  the  leading  local  solicitor  who  had  just 
entered  the  station,  a  man  with  a  fine  ascetic  face,  and 
singularly  blue  eyes.  Masham  looked  like  a  starved 
poet  or  preacher,  and  was  in  reality  one  of  the  hardest 
and  shrewdest  men  of  business  in  the  southern  counties. 

"Well,  did  you  see  Miss  Blanchflower?"  said  the 
Captain,  as  Masham  joined  him  on  the  platfonn,  and 
they  entered  the  up  train  together. 

"  I  did.  A  handsome  young  lady !  Have  you  heard 
the  news  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Your  neighbour,  Mr.  Winnington  —  Mark  Win- 
nington  —  is  named  as  her  guardian  under  her  father's 
will  —  until  she  is  twenty-five.  He  is  also  trustee, 
with  absolute  power  over  the  property." 

The  Captain  shewed  a  face  of  astonishment. 

"  Gracious !  what  had  Winnington  to  do  with  Sir 
Robert  Blanchflower?" 

"An  old  friend,  apparently.     But  it  is  a  curious  will." 

The  solicitor's  abstracted  look  shewed  a  busy  mind. 
The  Captain  had  never  felt  a  livelier  desire  for  informa- 
tion. 

"Isn't  there  something  strange  about  the  girl?" 
—  he  said,  lowering  his  voice,  although  there  was  no 
one  else  in  the  railway  carriage.  "  I  never  saw  a  more 
beautiful  creature!  But  my  mother  came  home  from 
London  the  other  day  with  some  very  queer  stories, 
from  a  woman  who  had  met  them  abroad.  She  said 
Miss  Blanchflower  was  awfully  clever,  but  as  wild  as  a 
hawk  —  mad  about  women's   rights   and  that  kind   of 


Delia  Blanchflower  49 

thing.  In  the  hotel  where  she  met  them,  people  fought 
very  shy  of  her." 

"  Oh,  she's  a  militant  suffragist,"  said  the  solicitor 
quietly  — "  though  she's  not  had  time  yet  since  her 
father's  death  to  do  any  mischief.  That  —  in  confi- 
dence —  is  the  meaning  of  the  will." 

The  adjutant  whistled. 

*'  Goodness  !  —  Winnington  will  have  his  work  cut 
out  for  him.     But  he  needn't  accept." 

"  He  has  accepted.  I  heard  this  morning  from  the 
London  solicitor." 

"  Your  firm  does  the  estate  business  down  here  ?  " 

"  For  many  years.  I  hope  to  see  Mr.  Winnington 
to-morrow  or  next  day.  He  is  evidently  hurrying  home 
—  because  of  this." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  minutes ;  then  the  Cap- 
tain said  bluntly: 

"  It's  an  awful  pity,  you  know,  that  kind  of  thing 
cropping  up  down  here.     We've  escaped  it  so  far." 

"  With  such  a  lot  of  ^vild  women  about,  what  can 
you  expect  .f*  "  said  the  solicitor  briskly.  "  Like  the 
measles  —  sure  to  come  our  way  sooner  or  later." 

"  Do  you  think  they'll  get  what  they  want.''  " 

"What  —  the  vote.^^  No  —  not  unless  the  men  are 
fools."     The  refined,  apostolic  face  set  like  iron. 

"  None  of  the  womanly  women  want  it,"  said  the 
Captain  with  conviction.  "  You  should  hear  my 
mother  on  it." 

The  solicitor  did  not  reply.  The  adjutant's  mother 
was  not  in  his  eyes  a  model  of  wisdom.  Nor  did  his 
own  opinion  want  any  fortifying  from  outside. 

Captain  Andrews  was  not  quite  in  the  same  position. 
He  was  conscious  of  a  strong  male  instinct  which  dis- 
avowed Miss  Blanchflower  and  all  her  kind;  but  at  the 


50  Delia  Blanchflower 

same  time  he  was  exceedingly  susceptible  to  female 
beauty,  and  it  troubled  his  reasoning  processes  that 
anybody  so  wrong-headed  should  be  so  good-looking. 
His  heart  was  soft,  and  his  brain  all  that  was  wanted 
for  his  own  purposes.  But  it  did  not  enable  him  — 
it  never  had  enabled  him  —  to  understand  these  extraor- 
dinary "  goings-on,"  which  the  newspapers  were 
every  day  reporting,  on  the  part  of  well-to-do,  educated 
women,  who  were  ready  —  it  seemed  —  to  do  anything 
outrageous  —  just  for  a  vote!  "Of  course  nobody 
would  mind  if  the  rich  women  —  the  tax -paying  women 
—  had  a  vote  —  help  us  Tories  f amousl}'.  But  the 
women  of  the  working-classes  —  why.  Good  Lord,  look 
at  them  when  there's  any  disturbance  on  —  any  big 
strike  —  look  at  Tonypandy !  —  a  deal  sight  worse 
than  the  men !  Give  them  the  vote  and  they'd  take  us 
to  the  devil,  even  quicker  than  Lloyd  George !  " 

Aloud  he  said  — 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  that  lady  Miss 
Blanchflower  had  with  her?  She  introduced  me.  Miss 
Marvel]  —  I  think  that  was  the  name.  I  thought  I 
had  heard  it  somewhere." 

The  solicitor  lifted  his  e^'^ebrows. 

"  I  daresay.  She  was  in  the  stone-throwing  raid 
last  August.  Fined  205.  or  a  month,  for  damage  in 
Pall  Mall.  She  was  in  prison  a  week;  then  somebody 
paid  her  fine.  She  professed  great  annoyance,  but  one 
of  the  police  told  me  it  was  privately  paid  by  her  own 
society.  She's  too  important  to  them  —  they  can't  do 
without  her.     An  extremely  clever  woman." 

"  Then  what  on  earth  does  she  come  and  bury  herself 
down  here  for.^*  "  cried  the  Captain. 

Masham  shewed  a  meditative  twist  of  the  lip. 


Delia  Blanchflower  51 

*^  Can't  say,  I'm  sure.  But  they  want  money.  And 
Miss  Blanchflower  is  an  important  capture." 

"  I  hope  that  girl  will  soon  have  the  sense  to  shake 
them  off !  "  said  the  Captain  with  energy.  "  She's  a 
deal  too  beautiful  for  that  kind  of  thing.  I  shall  get 
my  mother  to  come  and  talk  to  her." 

The  solicitor  concealed  his  smile  behind  his  Daily 
Telegraph.  He  had  a  real  liking  and  respect  for  the 
Captain,  but  the  family  affection  of  the  Andrews  house- 
hold was  a  trifle  too  idyllic  to  convince  a  gentleman 
so  well  acquainted  with  the  seamy  side  of  life.  What 
about  that  hunted-looking  girl,  the  Captain's  sister? 
He  didn't  believe,  he  never  had  believed  that  Mrs. 
Andrews  was  quite  so  much  of  an  angel  as  she  pretended 
to  be. 

Meanwhile,  no  sooner  had  the  fly  left  the  station  than 
Delia  turned  to  her  companion  — 

"  Gertrude !  —  did  you  see  what  that  man  was  read- 
ing who  passed  us  just  now?  Our  paper!  —  the  Toc- 
sin.^' 

Gertrude  Marvell  lifted  her  eyebrows  slightly. 

"  No  doubt  he  bought  it  at  Waterloo  —  out  of  cu- 
riosity." 

"Why  not  out  of  sympathy?  I  thought  he  looked 
at  us  rather  closely.  Of  course,  if  he  reads  the  Tocsin 
he  knows  something  about  you !  What  fun  it  would 
be  to  discover  a  comrade  and  a  brother  down  here ! " 

"  It  depends  entirely  upon  what  use  we  could  make  of 
him,"  said  Miss  Marvell.  Then  she  turned  suddenly  on 
her  companion  — "  Tell  me  really,  Delia  —  how  long  do 
you  want  to  stay  here?  " 

"  Well,  a  couple  of  months  at  least,"  said  Delia,  with 
a  rather  perplexed  expression.     "  After  all,  Gertrude, 


52  Delia  Blanchflower 

it's  my  property  now,  and  all  the  people  on  it,  I  suppose, 
will  expect  to  see  one  and  make  friends.  I  don't  want 
them  to  think  that  because  I'm  a  suffragist  I'm  going 
to  shirk.     It  wouldn't  be  good  policy,  would  it.''  " 

"  It's  all  a  question  of  the  relative  importance  of 
things,"  said  the  other  quietly.  "  London  is  our  head 
quarters,  and  things  are  moving  very  rapidly." 

"  I  know.  But,  dear,  you  did  promise !  for  a  time  " — 
pleaded  Delia.  "  Though  of  course  I  knoAv  how  dull  it 
must  be  for  you,  when  you  are  the  life  and  soul  of  so 
many  things  in  London.  But  you  must  remember  that 
I  haven't  a  penny  at  this  moment  but  what  Mr.  Win- 
nington  chooses  to  allow  me!  We  must  come  to  some 
understanding  with  him,  mustn't  we,  before  we  can  do 
anything.'*  It  is  all  so  difficult !  " —  the  girl's  voice 
took  a  deep,  passionate  note  — "  horribly  difficult,  when 
I  long  to  be  standing  beside  you  —  and  the  others  — 
in  the  open  —  fighting  —  for  all  I'm  worth.  But  how 
can  I,  just  yet.f*  I  ought  to  have  eight  thousand  a  year, 
and  Mr.  Winnington  can  cut  me  down  to  anything  he 
pleases.  It's  just  as  important  that  I  should  get  hold 
of  my  money  —  at  this  particular  moment  —  as  that  I 
should  be  joining  raids  in  London, —  more  important, 
surely  —  because  we  want  money  badly !  —  you  say  so 
yourself.  I  don't  want  it  for  myself;  I  want  it  all  — 
for  the  cause !  But  the  question  is,  how  to  get  it  — 
with  this  will  in  our  way.     I " 

"  Ah,  there's  that  house  again !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Mar- 
veil,  but  in  the  same  low  restrained  tone  that  was  habit- 
ual to  her.  She  bent  forward  to  look  at  the  stately 
building,  on  the  hill-side,  which  according  to  Captain 
Andrews'  information,  was  the  untenanted  property  of 
Sir  Wilfrid  Lang,  whom  a  shuffle  of  offices  had  just  ad- 
mitted to  the  Cabinet. 


Delia  Blanchflower  53 

"What  house?" — said  Delia,  not  without  a  vague 
smart  under  the  sudden  change  of  subject.  She  had 
a  natural  turn  for  declamation ;  a  girlish  liking  to  hear 
herself  talk ;  and  Gertrude,  her  tutor  in  the  first  place, 
and  now  her  counsellor  and  friend,  had  a  quiet  way  of 
snubbing  such  inclinations,  except  when  they'  could 
be  practically  useful.  "  You  have  the  gifts  of  a 
speaker  —  we  shall  want  you  to  speak  more  and  more," 
she  would  say.  But  in  private  she  rarely  failed  to  in- 
terrupt an  harangue,  even  the  first  beginnings  of  one. 

However,  the  smart  soon  passed,  and  Delia  too 
turned  her  eyes  towards  the  house  among  the  trees. 
She  gave  a  little  cr}"^  of  pleasure. 

"  Oh,  that's  Monk  Lawrence !  —  such  a  lovely  —  lovely 
old  place !  I  used  often  to  go  there  as  a  child  —  I 
adored  it.  But  I  can't  remember  who  lives  there 
now." 

Gertrude  Mar\^ell  handed  on  the  few  facts  learned 
from  the  Captain. 

"I  knew" — she  added— "that  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang 
lived  somewhere  near  here.  That  they  told  me  at  the 
office." 

"And  the  house  is  empty.?"  Delia,  flushing  sud- 
denly and  vividly,  turned  to  her  companion. 

"  Except  for  the  caretaker  —  who  no  doubt  lives 
some  where  on  the  ground-floor." 

There  was  silence  a  moment.  Then  Delia  laughed 
uncomfortably. 

"  Look  here,  Gerti-ude,  we  can't  attempt  anything 
of  that  kind  there :  I  remember  now  —  it  was  Sir  Wil- 
frid's brother  who  had  the  house,  when  I  used  to  go 
there.  He  was  a  great  friend  of  Father's  ;  and  liis  little 
girls  and  I  were  great  chums.  The  house  is  just  won- 
derful —  full  of  treasures !     I  am  sorry  it  belongs  ta 


54  Delia  Blanchflower 

Sir  Wilfrid  —  but  nobody  could  lift  a  finger  against 
Monk  Lawrence ! " 

Miss  Marvell's  eyes  sparkled. 

"  He  is  the  most  formidable  enemy  we  have,"  she 
said  softly,  between  her  closed  lips.  A  tremor  seemed 
to  run  through  her  slight  frame. 

Then  she  smiled,  and  her  tone  changed. 

"  Dear  Delia,  of  course  I  shan't  run  you  into  any 

—  avoidable  —  trouble,  down  here,  apart  from  the 
things  we  have  agreed  on." 

"  What  have  we  agreed  on.?     Remind  me!  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  that  we  won't  hide  our  opinions 

—  or  stop  our  propaganda  —  to  please  anybody." 

"  Certainly !  "  said  Delia.  "  I  shall  have  a  drawing- 
room  meeting  as  soon  as  possible.  You  seem  to  have 
fixed  up  a  number  of  speaking  engagements  for  us  both. 
And  we  told  the  office  to  send  us  down  tons  of  litera- 
ture." Then  her  face  broke  into  laughter  — "  Poor 
Mr.  Winnington !  " 

"A  rather  nice  old  place,  isn't  it.?"  said  Delia,  an 
hour  later,  when  the  elderly  housekeeper,  who  had  re- 
ceived them  with  what  had  seemed  l;o  Delia's  companion 
a  quite  unnecessary  amount  of  fuss  and  family  feeling, 
had  at  last  left  them  alone  in  the  drawing-room,  after 
taking  them  over  the  house. 

The  girl  spoke  in  a  softened  voice.  She  was  stand- 
ing thoughtfully  by  the  open  window  looking  out,  her 
hands  clasping  a  chair  behind  her.  Her  thin  black 
dress,  made  short  and  plain,  with  a  white  frill  at  the 
open  neck  and  sleeves,  by  its  very  meagreness  empha- 
sized the  young  beauty  of  the  wearer, —  a  beauty  full 
of  significance,  charged  —  over-charged  —  with  char- 
acter.    The  attitude  should  have  been  one  of  repose; 


I 


Delia  Blanchflower  ^5" 

it  was  on  the  contrary  one  of  tension,  suggesting  a 
momentary  balance  only,  of  impetuous  forces.  Delia 
was  indeed  suffering  the  onset  of  a  wave  of  feeling  which 
had  come  upon  her  unexpectedl}^ ;  for  which  she  had  not 
prepared  herself.  This  rambling  old  house  with  its 
quiet  garden  and  early  Victorian  furniture,  had  ap- 
pealed to  her  in  some  profound  and  touching  way.  Her 
childhood  stirred  again  in  her,  and  deep  inherited  things. 
How  well  she  remembered  the  low,  spacious  room,  with 
its  oak  wainscotting,  its  book-cases  and  its  pictures ! 
That  crayon  over  the  writing-table  of  her  grandmother 
in  her  white  cap  and  shawl;  her  grandfather's  chair, 
and  the  old  Bible  and  Pra3'er-book,  beside  it,  from  which 
he  used  to  read  evening  prayers ;  the  stiff  arm-chairs 
with  their  faded  chintz  covers ;  the  writing-table  with 
its  presentation  inkstand ;  the  groups  of  silhouettes 
on  the  walls,  her  forbears  of  long  ago;  the  needlework 
on  the  fire-screen,  in  which,  at  nine  years  old,  she  had 
been  proud  to  embroider  the  white  rose-bud  still  so 
lackadaisically  prominent ;  the  stool  on  which  she  used 
to  sit  and  knit  beside  her  grandmother ;  the  place  on  the 
rug  where  the  old  collie  used  to  lie  —  she  saw  his  ghost 
there  still!  —  all  these  familiar  and  even  ugly  objects 
seemed  to  be  putting  out  spiritual  hands  to  her,  playing 
on  nerves  once  eagerly  responsive.  She  had  never 
stayed  for  long  in  the  house ;  but  she  had  always  been 
happy  there.  The  moral  atmosphere  of  it  came  back 
to  her,  and  with  a  sense  of  the  old  rest  and  protection. 
Her  grandfather  might  have  been  miserly  to  others ; 
he  had  been  always  kind  to  her.  But  it  was  her  grand- 
mother who  had  been  supreme  in  that  room.  A  woman 
of  clear  sense  and  high  character;  narrow  and  preju- 
diced in  many  respects,  but  sorely  missed  by  many  when 
her  turn  came  to  die ;  a  Christian  in  more  than  name ; 


56  Delia  Blanchflower 

sincerely  devoted  to  her  teasing  little  granddaughter. 
A  woman  who  had  ordered  her  household  justly  and 
kindly;  a  personality  not  soon  forgotten. 

"  There  is  something  of  her  in  me  still,"  thought 
Delia  — "  at  least,  I  hope  there  is.  And  where  —  is  the 
rest  of  me  going?  " 

"  I  think  I'll  take  off  my  things,  dear,"  said  Gertrude 
Marvell,  breaking  in  on  the  girl's  reverie.  "  Don't 
trouble.     I  know  my  room." 

The  door  closed.  Delia  was  now  looking  out  into 
the  garden,  where  on  the  old  grass-slopes  the  Septem- 
ber shadows  lay  —  still  and  slumbrous.  The  peace  of  it, 
the  breath  of  its  old-world  tradition,  came  upon  her, 
relaxing  the  struggle  of  mind  and  soul  in  which  she 
had  been  living  for  months,  and  that  ceaseless  memory 
which  weighed  upon  her  of  her  dying  father, —  his 
bitter  and  increasing  recoil  from  all  that,  for  a  while, 
he  had  indulgently  permitted  —  his  final  estrangement 
from  her,  her  own  obstinacy  and  suffering. 

"  Yes  !  " —  she  cried  suddenly,  out  loud,  to  the  rose- 
bushes beyond  the  open  window  — "  but  it  had  a  reason 
—  it  had  a  reason !  "  She  clasped  her  hands  fiercely 
to  her  breast.     "  And  there  is  no  birth  without  pain." 


Chapter  IV 

A  FEW  days  after  her  arrival,  Delia  woke  up  in 
the  early  dawn  in  the  large  room  that  had  been 
her  grandmother's.  She  sat  up  in  the  broad  white  bed 
with  its  dimity  curtains,  her  hands  round  her  knees, 
peering  into  the  half  darkened  room,  where,  however,  she 
had  thrown  the  windows  wide  open,  behind  the  curtains, 
before  going  to  sleep.  On  the  opposite  wall  she  saw  an 
indifferent  picture  of  her  father  as  a  boy  of  twelve  on 
his  pony;  beside  it  a  faded  photograph  of  her  mother, 
her  beautiful  mother,  in  her  wedding  dress.  There  had 
never  been  any  real  sympathy  between  her  mother  and 
her  grandmother.  Old  Lady  Blanchflower  had  resented 
her  son's  marriage  with  a  foreign  woman,  with  a  Greek, 
in  particular.  The  Greeks  were  not  at  that  moment  of 
much  account  in  the  political  world,  and  Lady  Blanch- 
flower  thought  of  them  as  a  nation  of  shams,  trading  on 
a  great  past  which  did  not  belong  to  them.  Her  secret 
idea  was  that  out  of  their  own  country  they  grew  rich 
in  disreputable  wa3^s,  and  while  at  home,  where  only  the 
stupid  ones  stayed,  they  were  a  shabby,  half-civilised 
people,  mostly  bankrupt.  She  could  not  imagine  how 
a  girl  got  an}'  bringing  up  at  Athens,  and  believed 
nothing  that  her  son  told  her.  So  that  when  the  young 
Mrs.  Blancliflower  arrived,  there  were  jars  in  the  house- 
hold, and  it  was  not  long  before  the  spoilt  and  handsome 
bride  went  to  her  husband  in  tears,  and  asked  to  be 
taken  away.     Delia  was  surprised  and  touched,  there- 

57 


58  Delia  Blanchflower 

fore,  to  find  her  mother's  portrait  in  her  grandmother's 
room,  where  nothing  clearly  had  been  admitted  that 
had  not  some  connection  with  family  affection  or  family 
pride.  She  wondered  whether  on  her  mother's  death 
her  grandmother  had  hung  the  picture  there  in  dumb 
confession  of,  or  penance  for,  her  own  unkindness. 

The  paper  of  the  room  was  a  dingy  grey,  and  the 
furniture  was  heavily  old-fashioned  and  in  Delia's  eyes 
inconvenient.  "  If  I'm  going  to  keep  the  room  I  shall 
make  it  all  wliite,"  she  thought,  "  with  proper  fitted 
wardrobes,  and  some  low  bookcases  —  a  bath,  too,  of 
course,  in  the  dressing-room.  And  they  must  put  in 
electric  light  at  once !  How  could  they  have  done  with- 
out it  all  this  timel  I  believe  with  all  its  faults,  this 
house  could  be  made  quite  pretty  !  " 

And  she  fell  into  a  reverie, —  eagerly  constructive  — 
wherein  Maumsey  became,  at  a  stroke,  a  House  Beau- 
tiful, at  once  modem  and  aesthetically  right,  a  dim  har- 
mony in  lovely  purples,  blues  and  greens,  with  the  few 
fine  things  it  possessed  properly  spaced  and  grouped, 
the  old  gardens  showing  through  the  latticed  windows, 
and  golden  or  silvery  lights,  like  those  in  a  Blanche  in- 
terior, gleaming  in  its  now  dreary  rooms. 

Then  at  a  bound  she  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  stood  up- 
right in  the  autumn  dawn. 

"  I  hate  myself !  "  she  said  fiercely  —  as  she  ran  her 
hands  through  the  mass  of  her  dark  hair,  and  threw 
it  back  upon  her  shoulders.  Hurrying  across  the  room 
in  her  night-gown,  she  threw  back  the  curtains.  A  light 
autumnal  mist,  through  which  the  sun  was  smiling,  lay 
on  the  garden.  Stately  trees  rose  above  it,  and  masses 
of  flowers  shewed  vaguely  bright ;  while  through  the  blue 
distances  beyond,  the  New  Forest  stretched  to  the  sea. 

But  Delia  was  looking  at  herself,  in  a  long  pier-glass 


Delia  Blanchflower  59 

that  represented  almost  the  only  concession  to  the  typ- 
ical feminine  needs  in  the  room.  She  was  not  admiring 
her  own  seemliness ;  far  from  it ;  she  was  rating  and  de- 
spising herself  for  a  feather-brained  waverer  and  good- 
for-nothing. 

"  Oh  yes,  3'ou  can  folk!  "  she  said,  to  the  figure  in  tlie 
glass  — "  you  are  good  enough  at  that !  But  what  arc 
you  going  to  do\  —  Spend  your  time  at  ^Maple's  and 
Waring  —  matching  cliintzes  and  curtains?  —  when 
3^ou've  promised  —  3"ou've  pramiscdl  Gertrude's  right. 
There  are  all  sorts  of  disgusting  cowardices  and  weak- 
nesses in  you !  Oh !  yes,  you'd  like  to  go  fiddling  and 
fussing  down  here  —  pla3nng  the  heiress  —  patronis- 
ing the  poor  people  —  putting  3'ourself  into  beautiful 
clothes  —  and  getting  heaps  of  money  out  of  Mr.  Win- 
nington  to  spend.  It's  in  3'ou  —  it's  just  in  30U  —  to 
throw  everything  over  —  to  forget  everything  3'ou've 
felt,  and  evcr\'thing  vou've  vowed  —  and  just  tcaUorc  in 
luxury  and  selfisliness  and  snobber3^ !  Gertrude's  ab- 
solutely right.  But  you  shan't  do  it !  You  shan't  put 
a  hand  to  it !  Why  did  that  man  take  the  guardianship? 
Now  it's  his  business.  He  ma^'  see  to  it !  But  you  — 
you  have  something  else  to  do !  " 

And  she  stood  erect,  the  angry  impulse  in  her  stiff- 
ening all  her  young  body.  And  through  her  memory 
there  ran,  swift-footed,  fragments  froju  a  rhetoric  of 
which  she  was  already  fatally'  mistress,  tlie  fonnula?  too 
of  those  sincei-e  and  goading  beliefs  on  which  her  vouth 
had  been  fed  ever  since  her  first  acquaintance  with  Ger- 
trude ISIarvell.  The  mind  renewed  them  like  vows ; 
clung  to  them,  embraced  them. 

What  was  she  before  she  knew  Gertrude?  Slie 
thought  of  that  earlier  Delia  as  of  a  creature  almost 
too  contemptible  to  blame.      From  the  maturity  of  her 


6o  Delia  Blanchflower 

twent3'-one  3'ears  she  looked  back  upon  herself  at  seven- 
teen or  eighteen  with  wonder.  That  Delia  had  read 
nothing  —  knew  nothing  —  had  neither  thoughts  or 
principles.  She  was  her  father's  spoilt  child  and  dar- 
ling; delighting  in  the  luxur}'  that  surrounded  his  West 
Indian  Governorship ;  courted  and  flattered  by  the  few 
English  of  the  colonial  capital,  and  by  the  members  of 
her  father's  staff;  with  servants  for  every  possible  need 
or  whim ;  living  her  life  mostly  in  the  open  air,  riding  at 
her  father's  side,  through  the  sub-tropical  forests  of  the 
colony ;  teasing  and  tyrannising  over  the  dear  old  Ger- 
man governess  who  had  brought  her  up,  and  whose  only 
contribution  to  her  education  —  as  Delia  now  counted 
education  —  had  been  the  German  tongue.  Worth 
som.ething !  —  but  not  all  those  years,  "  when  I  might 
have  been  learning  so  much  else,  things  I  shall  never 
have  time  to  learn  now !  —  things  that  Gertrude  has  at 
her  finger's  end.  Why  wasn't  I  taught  properly  — 
decently  —  like  any  board  school  child !  As  Gertrude 
says,  we  women  want  everjthing  we  can  get !  We  must 
know  the  things  that  men  know  —  that  we  may  beat 
them  at  their  own  game.  W^hy  should  every  Balliol 
boy  —  years  younger  than  me  —  have  been  taught 
his  classics  and  mathematics, —  and  have  everything 
brought  to  him  —  made  easy  for  him  —  history,  polit- 
ical econom}'^,  logic,  philosophy,  laid  at  his  lordship's 
feet,  if  he  will  just  please  to  learn !  —  while  I,  who  have 
just  as  good  a  brain  as  he,  have  had  to  pick  up  a  few 
scraps  by  the  way,  just  because  nobody  who  had  charge 
of  me  ever  thought  it  worth  while  to  teach  a  girl.  But 
I  have  a  mind  !  —  an  intelligence  !  —  even  if  I  am  a 
woman;  and  there  is  all  the  world  to  know.  iMarriage.? 
Yes !  —  but  not  at  the  sacrifice  of  everything  else  — 
of  the  rational,  civilised  self." 


Delia  Blanchflower  6l 

On  the  whole  though,  her  3'outh  had  been  happy 
enough,  with  recurrent  intervals  of  ennui  and  discontent. 
Intervals  too  of  poetic  enthusiasm,  or  ascetic  religion. 
At  eighteen  she  had  been  practically  a  Catholic,  in- 
fluenced by  the  charming  wife  of  one  of  her  father's 
aides-de-camp.  And  then  —  a  few  stray  books  or 
magazine  articles  had  made  a  Darwinian  and  an  agnos- 
tic of  her ;  the  one  phase  as  futile  as  the  other. 

"  I  knew  nothing  —  I  had  no  mind !  " —  she  repeated 
with  energy, — "  till  Gertrude  came." 

And  she  thought  with  ardour  of  that  intellectual 
awakening,  under  the  strange  influence  of  the  appar- 
ently reserved  and  impassive  woman,  who  had  come  to 
read  history  with  her  for  six  months,  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  a  friend  of  her  father's,  a  certain  cultivated 
and  clever  Lady  Tonbridge,  "  who  saw  how  staged  I 
was." 

So,  after  enquiry,  a  lady  who  was  a  B.A.  of  London, 
and  had  taken  first-class  honour  in  liistory  —  Delia's 
ambition  would  accept  nothing  less  —  had  been  found, 
who  wanted  for  health's  sake  a  winter  in  a  warm  climate, 
and  was  willing  to  read  history  with  Governor  Blanch- 
flower's  half-fledged  daughter. 

The  friendship  had  begun,  as  often,  with  a  little 
aversion.  Delia  was  made  to  work,  and  having  always 
resented  being  made  to  do  anytliing,  for  about  a  month 
she  disliked  her  tutor,  and  would  have  persuaded  Sir 
Robert  to  send  her  awa^-,  had  not  England  been  so 
far  off^,  and  the  agreement  with  ]Miss  ]\Iarvell,  whose 
terms  were  high,  unusually  stringent.  But  by  the  end 
of  the  month  the  girl  of  eighteen  was  conquered.  She 
had  recognised  in  Gertrude  Mal•^•ell  accomplishments 
that  filled  her  with  envy,  together  with  an  intensity  of 
will,  a  bitter  and  fiery  purpose,  that  astounded  and  sub- 


62  Delia  Blanchflower 

dued  a  young  creature  in  whom  inherited  germs  of 
southern  energy  and  passion  were  only  waiting  the 
touch  that  starts  the  ferment.  Gertrude  Marvell  had 
read  an  amazing  amount  of  history,  and  all  from  one 
point  of  view;  that  of  the  woman  stirred  to  a  kind  of 
madness  by  what  she  held  to  be  the  wrongs  of  her  sex. 
The  age-long  monopoly  of  all  the  higher  forces  of  civil- 
isation by  men;  the  cruel  and  insulting  insistence  upon 
the  sexual  and  maternal  functions  of  women,  as  cover- 
ing the  whole  of  her  destiny ;  the  hideous  depreciation 
of  her  as  an  inferior  and  unclean  creature,  to  which 
Christianity,  poisoned  by  the  story  of  Eve,  and  a  score 
of  barbarous  beliefs  and  superstitions  more  primitive 
still,  had  largely  contributed,  while  hypocritically  pro- 
fessing to  enfranchise  and  exalt  her ;  the  unfailing  doom 
to  "  obey,"  and  to  bring  forth,  that  has  crushed  her ; 
the  labours  and  shames  heaped  upon  her  by  men  in  the 
pursuit  of  their  own  selfish  devices ;  and  the  denial  to 
her,  also  by  men,  of  all  the  higher  and  spiritual  activ- 
ities, except  those  allowed  by  a  man-made  religion :  — 
this  feminist  gospel,  in  some  respects  so  bitterly  true, 
in  others  so  vindictively  false,  was  gradually  and  un- 
sparingly pressed  upon  Delia's  quick  intelligence.  She 
caught  its  fire ;  she  rose  to  its  call ;  and  there  came  a  day 
when  Gertrude  Marvell  breaking  through  the  cold  re- 
serve she  had  hitherto  interposed  between  herself  and 
the  pupil  who  had  come  to  adore  her,  threw  her  arms 
round  the  girl,  accepting  from  her  what  were  practically 
the  vows  of  a  neophyte  in  a  secret  and  revolutionary 
service. 

Joyous,  self-dedicating  moment!  But  it  had  been 
followed  by  a  tragedy ;  the  tragedy  of  Delia's  estrange- 
ment from  her  father.  It  was  not  long  before  Sir 
Robert  Blanchflower,  a  proud  self-indulgent  man,  with 


Delia  Blanchflower  63 

a  keen  critical  sense,  a  wide  acquaintance  with  men  and 
affairs,  and  a  number  of  miscellaneous  acquirements  of 
which  he  never  made  the  smallest  parade,  had  divined 
the  spirit  of  irreconcilable  revolt  which  animated  the 
slight  and  generally  taciturn  woman,  who  had  obtained 
such  a  hold  upon  his  daughter.  He,  the  god  of  liis 
small  world,  was  made  to  feel  himself  humiliated  in  her 
presence.  She  was,  in  fact,  his  intellectual  superior, 
and  the  truth  was  conveyed  to  him  in  a  score  of  subtle 
ways.  She  was  in  his  house  simply  because  she  was 
poor,  and  wanted  rest  from  excessive  overwork,  at 
someone  else's  expense.  Otherwise  her  manner  sug- 
gested —  often  quite  unconsciously  —  that  she  would 
not  have  put  up  with  his  household  and  its  regulations 
for  a  single  day. 

Then,  suddenly,  he  perceived  that  he  had  lost  his 
daughter,  and  the  reason  of  it.  The  last  year  of  his 
official  life  was  thenceforward  darkened  by  an  ugly  and 
undignified  struggle  with  the  woman  who  had  stolen 
Delia  from  him.  In  the  end  he  dismissed  Gertrude 
Marvell.  Delia  shewed  a  passionate  resentment,  told 
him  frankly  that  as  soon  as  she  was  twenty-one  she 
should  take  up  "  the  Woman's  movement  "  as  her  sole 
occupation,  and  should  offer  herself  wherever  Gertrude 
Marvell,  and  Gertrude's  leaders,  thought  she  could  be 
useful.  "  The  vote  must  be  got !  " —  she  said,  stand- 
ing white  and  trembling,  but  resolute,  before  her  father 
— "  If  not  peaceably,  then  by  violence.  And  when  we 
get  it,  father,  you  men  will  be  astonished  to  see  what 
we  shall  do  with  it !  " 

Her  twenty-first  birthday  was  at  hand,  and  would 
probably  have  seen  Delia's  flight  from  her  father's 
house,  but  for  Sir  Robert's  breakdown  in  health.  He 
gave  up  his  post,  and  it  Avas  evident  he  had  not  more 


64  Delia  Blanchflower 

than  a  year  or  two  to  live.  Delia  softened  and  sub- 
mitted. She  went  abroad  with  him,  and  for  a  time  he 
seemed  to  throw  off  the  disease  which  had  attacked 
him.  It  Avas  during  a  brighter  interval  that,  touched 
by  her  apparent  concessions,  he  had  consented  to  her 
giving  the  lecture  in  the  Tyrolese  hotel  the  fame  of  which 
had  spread  abroad,  and  had  even  taken  a  certain  pleas- 
ure in  her  oratorical  success. 

But  during  the  following  winter  —  Sir  Robert's  last 
■ —  which  they  spent  at  Meran,  tilings  had  gone  from 
bad  to  worse.  For  months  Delia  never  mentioned  Ger- 
trude Marvell  to  her  father.  He  flattered  himself  that 
the  friendship  was  at  an  end.  Then  some  accident  re- 
vealed to  him  that  it  was  as  close  as,  or  closer  than  ever ; 
that  they  were  in  daily  correspondence ;  that  they  had 
actually  met,  unknown  to  him,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Meran ;  and  that  Delia  was  sending  all  the  money  she 
could  possibly  spare  from  her  very  ample  allowance  to 
"  The  Daughters  of  Revolt,"  the  far-spreading  society 
in  which  Gertrude  Marvell  was  now  one  of  the  leading 
officials. 

Some  of  these  dismal  memories  of  Meran  descended 
like  birds  of  night  upon  Delia,  as  she  stood  with  her 
arms  above  her  head,  in  her  long  night-gown,  looking 
intently  but  quite  unconsciously  into  the  depths  of  an 
old  rosewood  cheval  glass.  She  felt  that  sultry  night 
about  her  once  more,  when,  after  signing  his  will,  her 
father  opened  his  eyes  upon  her,  coming  back  with  an 
effort  from  the  bound  of  death,  and  had  said  quite  clearly 
though  faintly  in  the  silence  — 

"  Give  up  that  woman,  Delia !  —  promise  me  to  give 
her  up."  And  Delia  had  cried  bitterly,  on  her  knees 
beside    him  —  without    a    word  —  caressing    his    hand. 


Delia  Blanchflower  65; 

And  the  cold  fingers  had  been  feebly  withdrawn  from 
hers  as  the  eyes  closed. 

"  Oh  papa  —  papa !  "  The  low  murmur  came  from 
her,  as  she  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  eyes.  If  the 
Christian  guesses  were  but  true,  and  in  some  quiet 
Elysian  state  he  might  now  understand,  and  cease  to  be 
angry  with  her !  Was  there  ever  a  great  cause  won 
without  setting  kin  against  kin.''  "  A  man's  foes  shall 
be  they  of  his  own  household."  "  It  wasn't  my  fault  — 
it  wasn't  my  fault !  " 

No !  —  and  moreover  it  was  her  duty  not  to  waste 
her  strength  in  vain  emotion  and  regret.  Her  task  was 
doing,  not  dreaming.  She  turned  away,  banished  her 
thoughts  and  set  steadily  about  the  task  of  dressing. 

"  Please  Miss  Blanchflower,  there  are  two  or  three 
people  waiting  to  see  j^ou  in  the  servants'  hall." 

So  said  the  tall  and  gentle-voiced  housekeeper,  Mrs. 
Bird,  whose  emotions  had  been,  in  Miss  Marvell's  view, 
so  unnecessarih'  exercised  on  the  evening  of  Delia's 
home-coming.  Being  a  sensitive  person,  Mrs.  Bird  had 
already  learnt  her  lesson,  and  her  manner  had  now  be- 
come as  mildly  distant  as  could  be  desired,  especially 
in  the  case  of  Miss  Blanchflower's  lady  companion. 

"People.?  "\^^lat  people.''"  asked  Delia,  looking 
round  with  a  furrowed  brow.  She  and  Gertrude  were 
sitting  together  on  the  sofa  when  the  housekeeper 
entered,  eagerly  reading  a  large  batch  of  letters  which 
the  London  post  had  just  brought,  and  discussing  their 
contents  in  subdued  tones. 

"  It's  the  cottages,  Miss.  Her  Ladj^ship  used  always 
to  decide  who  should  have  those  as  were  vacant  about 
this  time  of  year,  and  two  or  three  of  these  persons 


66  Delia  Blanchilower 

have  been  up  several  times  to  know  when  you'd  be 
home." 

"  But  I  don't  know  anything  about  it  " —  said  Delia, 
rising  reluctantly.  "  Why  doesn't  the  agent  —  why 
doesn't  Mr.  Frost  do  it?  " 

"  I  suppose  —  they  thought  —  you'd  perhaps  speak 
a  word  to  Mr.  Frost,  Miss,"  suggested  Mrs.  Bird.  "  But 
I  can  send  them  away  of  course,  if  you  wish." 

"  Oh  no,  I'll  come  " —  said  Delia.  "  But  it's  ralher 
tiresome  —  just  as" — she  looked  at  Gertrude. 

"  Don't  be  long,"  said  Miss  Marvell,  sharply,  "  I'll 
wait  for  you  here."  And  she  plunged  back  into  the 
letters,  her  delicate  face  all  alive,  her  eyes  sparkling. 
Delia   departed  —  evidently   on    a   distasteful   errand. 

But  twenty  minutes  later,  she  returned  flushed  and 
animated. 

"  I  avi  glad  I  went !  Such  tyranny  —  such  mon- 
strous tyranny ! "  She  stood  in  front  of  Gertrude 
breathing  fast,  her  hands  on  her  hips. 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"  ^^y  grandmother  had  a  rule  —  can  you  imagine 
anything  so  cruel !  —  that  no  girl  —  who  had  gone 
wrong  —  was  to  be  allowed  in  our  cottages.  If  she 
couldn't  be  provided  for  in  some  Home  or  other,  or  if 
her  family  refused  to  give  her  up,  then  the  family  must 
go.  An  old  man  has  been  up  to  see  me  —  a  widower 
with  two  daughters  —  one  in  service.  The  one  in  serv- 
ice has  come  to  grief  —  the  son  of  the  house !  —  the 
usual  story !  " —  the  speaker's  face  had  turned  fiercely 
pale  — "  and  now  our  agent  refuses  to  let  the  girl  and 
her  baby  come  home.  And  the  old  father  says  — '  What 
am  I  to  do.  Miss  ?  I  can't  turn  her  out  —  she's  my  own 
flesh  and  blood.  I've  got  to  stick  to  her  —  else  there'll 
be  worse  happening.     It's  not  justice.  Miss  —  and  it's 


Delia  Blanchflower  67 

not  Gospel.'  Well!" — Delia  seated  herself  with 
energy, — "  I've  told  him  to  have  her  home  at  once  — 
and  I'll  see  to  it." 

Gertrude  lifted  her  eyebrows,  a  gesture  habitual  with 
her,  whenever  Delia  wore  —  as  now  —  her  young 
prophetess  look.  Why  feel  these  things  so  much?  Hu- 
man nerves  have  only  a  certain  limited  stock  of  reac- 
tions.    Avenge  —  and  alter  them ! 

But  she  merely  said  — 

"And  the  others.?" 

"  Oh,  a  poor  mother  with  eight  children,  pleading  for 
a  cottage  with  three  bedrooms  instead  of  two !  I  told 
her  she  should  have  it  if  I  had  to  build  it !  — And  an 
old  woman  who  has  lived  fifty-two  years  in  her  cottage, 
and  lost  all  her  belongings,  begging  that  she  mightn't 
be  turned  out  —  for  a  family  —  now  that  it's  too  big 
for  her.  She  shan't  be  turned  out!  Of  course  I  sup- 
pose it  would  be  common  sense  " —  the  tension  of  the 
speaker's  face  broke  up  in  laughter  — "  to  put  the  old 
woman  into  the  cottage  of  the  eight  children  —  and 
put  the  eight  children  into  the  old  woman's.  But  hu- 
man beings  are  not  cattle!  Sentiment's  something! 
Why  shouldn't  a  woman  be  allowed  to  die  in  her  old 
home, —  so  long  as  she  pays  the  rent.?  I  hate  all  this 
interference  with  people's  lives !  And  it's  always  the 
women  who  come  worst  off.  '  Oh  Mr.  Frost,  he  never 
pays  no  attention  to  us  women.  He  claps  'is  'ands  to 
his  ears  when  he  sees  one  of  us,  and  jest  runs  for  it.' 
Well,  I'll  make  Mr.  Frost  listen  to  a  woman !  " 

"  I'm  afraid  Mr.  Winnington  is  his  master,"  said 
Gertrude  quietly.  Delia,  crimson  again,  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 

"  We  shall  sec !  " 

Gertrude  Marvell  looked  up. 


68  Delia  Blanchflower 

'^'  Look  here,  Delia,  if  you're  going  to  play  the  part 
of  earthly  Providence  to  this  village  and  your  property 
in  general  —  as  I've  said  to  you  before  —  you  may  as 
well  tell  the  '  Daughters  '  you  can't  do  anything  for 
them.  That's  a  profession  in  itself;  and  would  take  you 
all  your  time." 

"  Then  of  course,  I  shan't  do  it,"  said  Delia,  with 
decision.     "  But  I  only  want  to  put  in  an  appearance 

—  to  make  friends  with  the  people  —  just  for  a  time, 
Gertrude!  It  doesn't  do  to  be  too  unpopular.  We're 
not  exactly  in  good  odour  just  now,  are  we?  " 

And  sitting  down  on  a  stool  beside  the  elder  woman, 
Delia  leant  her  head  against  her  friend's  knee  caress- 
ingly. 

Gertrude  gave  an  absent  touch  to  the  girl's  beautiful 
hair,  and  then  said  — 

"  So  you  will  take  these  four  meetings  ?  " 

"  Certainly!  "  Delia  sprang  up.  "  What  are  they.'' 
One  at  Latchford,  one  at  Brownmouth  —  Wanchester 

—  and  Frimpton.  All  right.  I  shall  be  pelted  at 
Brownmouth.  But  rotten  eggs  don't  matter  so  much 
when  you're  looking  out  for  them  —  except  on  your 
face  —  Ugh !  " 

"  And  the  meeting  here?  " 

"  Of  course.  Can't  I  do  what  I  like  with  my  own 
house?     We'll  have  the  notices  out  next  week." 

Gertrude  looked  up  — 

"  When  did  you  say  that  man  —  Mr.  Winnington  — 
was  coming?  " 

"  His  note  this  morning  said  4.30." 

"  You'd  better  see  him  alone  —  for  the  first  half  hour 
anyway." 

Delia   made   a   face. 


Delia  Blanchflower  69 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  line  to  take  up.  You've  been 
no  use  at  all,  Gertrude  !  " 

Gertrude  smiled. 

"  Wait  till  3'OU  see  him,"  she  said  coolly.  "  Mother- 
wit  will  help  you  out." 

"  I  wish  I  had  anything  to  bargain  with." 

"  So  you  have." 

"Pray,  what.?" 

"  The  meeting  here.  You  could  give  that  up.  And 
he  needn't  know  anything  of  the  others  yet  awhile." 

"  What  a  charming  opinion  he  will  have  of  us  both, 
by  and  bye,"  laughed  Delia,  quietly.  "  And  by  all  ac- 
counts he  himself  Is  a  simple  paragon. —  Heavens,  how 
tiresome ! " 

Gertrude  Marvell  turned  back  to  her  letters. 

"  What  does  anyone  know  about  a  man  ?  "  she  said, 
with  slow  deliberation. 

The  midday  post  at  Maumsey  brought  letters  just 
after  luncheon.  Delia  turning  hers  over  was  astonished 
to  see  two  or  three  with  the  local  postmark. 

"  What  can  people  from  here  be  writing  to  me 
about?" 

Gertrude  absorbed  in  the  new  weekly  number  of  the 
Tocsin    took    no   notice,   till   she   was   touched   on   the 
shoulder  by  Delia. 
"Yes.?" 

"Gertrude!  —  It's  too  amazing!"  The  girl's  tone 
was  full  of  a  jo^^ous  wonder.  "  You  know  they  told  us 
at  head-quarters  that  this  was  one  of  the  deadest  places 
in  England  —  a  nest  of  Antis  —  nothing  doing  here  at 
all.  Well,  what  do  you  think?  —  here  are  three  letters 
by  one  post,  from  the  village  —  all  greeting  us  —  all 
knowing  perfectly  who  you  are  —  that  you  have  been  in 


70  Delia  Blanchfiower 

prison,  etcetera  —  all  readers  of  the  Tocsin,  and  burn- 
ing to  be  doing  something " 

"  Burning  something?  "  interposed  the  other  in  her 
most  ordinary  voice. 

Delia  laughed,  again  with  the  note  of  constraint. 

"  Well,  anyway,  they  want  to  come  and  see  us." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"  An  assistant  mistress  at  the  little  grammar-school 
—  that's  No.  1.  No.  2  —  a  farmer's  daughter,  who 
says  she  took  part  in  one  of  the  raids  last  summer,  but 
nobod}^  knows  down  here.  Her  father  paid  her  fine. 
And  No.  3.  a  consumptive  dressmaker,  who  declares  she 
hasn't  much  life  left  anyway,  and  she  is  quite  willing  to 
give  it  to  the  '  cause '  1  Isn't  it  wonderful  how  it 
spreads  —  it  spreads  !  " 

"  Hm  " —  said  ]\Iiss  Marvell.  "  Well,  we  may  as  well 
inspect  them.  Tell  them  to  come  up  some  time  next 
week  after  dusk." 

As  she  spoke,  the  temporary  parlour-maid  threw  open 
the  door  of  the  room  which  Delia  had  that  morning 
chosen  as  her  own  sitting-room. 

"  Are  you  at  home.  Miss  ?  Mrs.  France  would  like 
to  see  you." 

"Mrs.  France?  —  Mrs.  France?  Oh,  I  know  —  the 
doctor's  wife  —  Mrs.  Bird  was  talking  of  him  this  morn- 
ing. Well,  I  suppose  I  must  go."  Delia  moved  unwill- 
ingly.    "I  'm  coming,  Mary." 

"  Of  course  you  must  go,"  said  Gertrude,  a  little 
peremptorily.  "  As  we  are  here  we  may  as  well  recon- 
noitre the  whole  ground  —  find  out  everything  we 
can." 

In  the  drawing-room,  to  which  some  flowers,  and  a 
litter  of  new  books  and  magazines  had  already  restored 


Delia  Blanchflower  71 

its  inhabited  look,  Delia  found  a  woman  awaiting  her, 
in  whom  the  girl's  first  glance  discerned  a  personality. 
She  was  dressed  with  an  entire  disregard  of  the  fashion, 
in  plain,  serviceable  clothes.  A  small  black  bonnet  tied 
under  the  chin  framed  a  face  whose  only  beauty  lay  in 
the  expression  of  the  clear  kind  eyes,  and  quiet  mouth. 
The  eyes  were  a  little  prominent ;  the  brow  above  them 
unusually  smooth  and  untroubled,  answering  to  the 
bands  of  brown  hair  touched  with  grey  which  defined 
it.  But  the  rest  of  the  face  was  marked  by  many  deep 
lines  —  of  experience,  or  suffering.''  —  which  showed 
clearly  that  its  owner  had  long  left  physical  youth  be- 
hind. And  yet  perhaps  youth  —  in  some  spiritual  po- 
etic sense  —  was  what  Mrs.  France's  aspect  most  sharply 
conveyed. 

She  rose  as  Delia  entered,  and  greeted  her  warmly. 

"  It  is  nice  to  see  you  settled  here !  Dr.  France  and 
I  were  great  friends  of  your  old  grandmother.  He  and 
she  were  regular  cronies.  We  were  very  sorry  to  see 
the  news  of  your  poor  father's  death." 

The  voice  was  clear  and  soft,  and  absolutely  sincere. 
Delia  felt  drawn  to  her.  But  it  had  become  habitual  to 
her  to  hold  herself  on  the  defensive  with  strangers,  to 
suspect  hostility  and  disapproval  everywhere.  So  that 
her  manner  in  reply,  though  polite  enough,  was  rather 
chilly. 

But  —  the  girl's  beauty !  The  fame  of  it  had  indeed 
reached  Maumsey  in  advance  of  the  heiress.  Mrs. 
France,  however,  in  its  actual  presence  was  inclined  to 
say  "  I  had  not  heard  the  half ! "  Slie  remembered 
Delia's  mother,  and  in  the  face  before  her  she  recognised 
again  the  Greek  type,  the  old  pure  type,  reappearing, 
as  it  constantly  does,  in  the  mixed  modern  race.  But 
the  daughter  surpassed  her  mother.     Delia's  eyes,  of 


72  Delia  Blanchflower 

a  lovely  grey  blue,  lidded,  and  fringed,  and  arched  with 
an  exquisite  perfection ;  the  curve  of  the  slightly 
bronzed  cheek,  suggesting  through  all  its  delicacy  the 
fulness  of  young,  sensuous  life;  the  mouth,  perhaps  a 
trifle  too  large,  and  the  chin,  perhaps  a  trifle  too  firm ; 
the  abundance  of  the  glossy  black  hair,  curling  wherever 
it  was  allowed  to  curl,  or  wherever  it  could  escape  the 
tight  coils  in  which  it  was  bound  —  at  the  temples,  and 
over  the  brow-;  the  beauty  of  the  uncovered  neck,  and 
of  the  amply-rounded  form  which  revealed  itself  through 
the  thin  black  stripe  of  the  mourning  dress :  —  none  of 
these  "  items  "  in  Delia's  good  looks  escaped  her  admir- 
ing visitor. 

"  It's  to  be  hoped  Mr.  Mark  realises  his  responsi- 
bilities," she  thought,  with  amusement. 

Aloud,  she  said  — 

"  I  remember  you  as  quite  a  little  thing  staying  with 
your  Grandmother  —  but  you  wouldn't  remember  me. 
Dr.  France  was  grieved  not  to  come,  but  it's  liis  hospital 
day." 

Delia  thanked  her,  without  eff'usion.  Mrs.  France 
presently  began  to  feel  conversation  an  effort,  and  to 
realise  that  the  girl's  wonderful  eyes  were  very  observ- 
ant and  very  critical.  Yet  she  chose  the  very  obvious 
and  appropriate  topic  of  Lady  Blanchflower,  her  strong 
character,  her  doings  in  the  village,  her  relation  to  the 
labourers  and  their  wives. 

"  When  she  died,  they  really  missed  her.  They  miss 
her  still." 

"  Is  it  good  for  a  village  to  depend  so  much  on  one 
person  ?  "  said  Delia  in  a  detached  voice. 

Mrs.  France  looked  at  her  curiously.  Jealousy  of 
one's  grandmother  is  not  a  common  trait  in  the  young. 
It  struck  her  that  Miss  Blanchflower  was  alreadv  de- 


Delia  Blanchflower  73 

fending  herself  against  examples  and  ideals  she  did  not 
mean  to  follow.  And  again  amusement  —  and  concern  ! 
—  on  Mark  Winnington's  account  made  themselves  felt. 
Mrs.  France  was  quite  aware  of  Delia's  "  militant  "  an- 
tecedents, and  of  the  history  of  the  lady  she  had  brought 
down  to  live  with  her.  But  the  confidence  of  the  doc- 
tor's wife  in  Winnington's  powers  and  charm  was  bound- 
less.    *'  He'll  be  a  match  for  them  !  "  she  thought  gaily. 

Meanwhile  in  reply,  she  smilingly  defended  her  old 
friend  Lady  Blanchflower  from  the  implied  charge  of 
pauperising  the  village. 

"  Not  at  all !  She  never  gave  money  recklessly  — 
and  the  do-nothings  kept  clear  of  her.  But  she  was  the 
people's  friend  —  and  they  knew  it.  They're  very  ex- 
cited about  your  coming !  " 

"  I  daresay  I  shall  change  some  things,"  said  Delia 
decidedly.  "  I  don't  approve  of  all  Mr.  Frost  has  been 
doing." 

"  Well,  you'll  have  your  guardian  to  help  you,"  said 
Mrs.  France  quietly. 

Delia  flushed,  straightened  her  shoulders,  and  said 
nothing. 

Tliis  time  Mrs.  France  was  fairly  taken  by  surprise. 
She  knew  notlving  more  of  Sir  Robert  Blanchflower's 
will  than  that  he  had  made  Mr.  Mark  Winnington  his 
daughter's  guardian,  till  she  reached  the  age  of  twenty- 
five.  But  that  any  young  wioman  —  any  motherless  and 
fatherless  girl  —  should  not  think  herself  the  most  lucky 
of  mortals  to  have  obtained  Mark  Winnington  as  guide 
and  defender,  with  first  claim  on  his  time,  his  brains, 
his  kindness,  seemed  incredible  to  Mark's  old  friend  and 
neighbour,  accustomed  to  the  daily  signs  of  his  immense 
and  deserved  popularit}'.  Then  it  flashed  upon  her  — 
"  Has  she  ever  seen  him .''  " 


74  Delia  Blanchflower 

The  doubt  led  to  an  immediate  communication  of  the 
news  that  Winnington  had  arrived  from  town  that  morn- 
ing.    Dr.  France  had  seen  him  in  the  village. 

"You  know  him,  of  course,  already?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Delia,  indifferently.     "  He  and  I 
are  perfect  strangers."     Mrs.  France  laughed. 
•      "I  rather  envy  you  the  pleasure  of  making  friends 
with  him !     We  are  all  devoted  to  him  down  here." 

Delia  lifted  her  eyebrows. 

"What  are  his  particular  virtues.''  It's  monotonous 
to  possess  them  all.^^  The  slight  note  of  insolence  was 
hardly  disguised. 

"  No  two  friends  of  his  would  give  you  the  same 
answer.  I  should  give  you  a  different  catalogue,  for 
instance,  from  Lady  Tonbridge  — " 

"  Lady  Tonbridge !  "  cried  Delia,  waking  up  at  last. 
"  You  don't  mean  that  Lady  Tonbridge  lives  in  this 
neighbourhood.^  " 

"  Certainly.     You  know  her.''  " 

"  She  came  once  to  stay  with  us  in  the  West  Indies. 
My  father  knew  her  very  well  before  she  married.  And 
I  owe  her  —  a  great  debt  " —  the  last  words  were  spoken 
with  emphasis. 

Mrs.  France  looked  enquiring. 

" —  she  recommended  to  us  the  lady  who  is  now  living 
with  me  here  —  my  chaperon  —  Miss  Marvell.''  " 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  Mrs.  France 
said,  not  without  embarrassment  — 

"  Your  father  desired  she  should  live  with  you.f"  " 

Delia  flushed  again. 

"  No.     My  father  did  not  understand  her." 

"  He  did  not  agree  with  her  views  ?  " 

"  Nor  with  mine.  It  was  horrid  —  but  even  relations 
must  agree  to  differ.     Why  is  Lady  Tonbridge  here.? 


Delia  Blanchfiower  75* 

And  where  is  Sir  Alfred?  Papa  had  not  heard  of  them 
for  a  long  time." 

"  They  separated  last  year " —  said  Mrs.  France 
gravely.  "  But  Mr.  Winnington  will  tell  you.  He's  a 
great  friend  of  hers.  She  does  a  lot  of  work  for 
him." 

"Work.?" 

"  Social  work  !  "  smiled  Mrs.  France  — "  poor-law  — 
schools  —  that  kind  of  thing.     He  ropes  us  all  in." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Delia,  with  her  head  in  the  air. 

Mrs.  France  laughed  outright. 

"  That  seems  to  you  so  unimportant  —  compared  to 
the  vote." 

"  It  is  unimportant ! "  said  Delia,  impetuously. 
"  Nothing  really  matters  but  the  vote.  Aren't  you  a 
Suffragist,  Mrs.  France.?  " 

Mrs.  France  smilingly  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  want  to  meddle  with  the  men's  business.  And 
we're  a  long  way  yet  from  catching  up  with  our  own. 
Oh,  my  husband  has  a  lot  of  scientific  objections.  But 
that's  mine."  Then  her  face  grew  serious  — "  anyway, 
we  can  all  agree,  I  hope,  in  hating  violence.  That  can 
never  settle  it." 

She  looked  a  little  sternly  at  her  young  companion. 

"  That  depends,"  said  Delia.  "  But  we  mustn't  ar- 
gTie,  Mrs.  France.  I  should  only  make  you  angry. 
Ah!" 

She  sprang  up  and  went  to  the  window,  just  as  steps 
could  be  lieard  on  the  gravel  outside. 

"  Eire's  someone  coming."  She  turned  to  Mrs. 
France.     "  Is  it  Mr.  Winnington?  " 

"  It  is !  "  said  her  visitor,  after  putting  on  her  glasses. 

Delia  surveyed  him,  standing  behind  the  lace  curtain, 
and  ]Mrs.  France  was  relieved  to  see  that  a  young  per- 


76  Delia  Blanchflower 

son  of  such  very  decided  opinions  could  be  still  girlishly 
curious.     She  herself  rose  to  go. 

"  Good-bye.     I  won't  interrupt  your  talk  with  him." 

"  Good-looking.''  "  said  Delia,  with  mischief  in  her  eyes, 
and  a  slight  gesture  towards  the  approaching  visitor. 

*'  Don't  you  know  what  an  athlete  he  is  —  or  was .''  " 

"Another  perfection?  Heavens!  —  how  does  he  en- 
dure it.''  "  said  the  girl,  laughing. 

Mrs.  France  took  her  leave.  She  was  a  very  motherly 
tender-hearted  v.oraan,  and  she  would  like  to  have  taken 
her  old  friend's  grandchild  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her. 
But  she  wisely  refrained ;  and  indeed  the  instinct  to  shake 
her  was  perhaps  equally  strong. 

"  How  long  will  she  stand  gossiping  on  the  doonnat 
with  the  paragon,"  said  Delia  savagely  to  herself,  when 
she  was  left  alone.  "  Oh,  how  I  hate  a  '  charming 
man  ' !  "  She  moved  stonnily  to  and  fro,  listening  to 
the  distant  sounds  of  talk  in  the  hall,  and  resenting  them. 
Then  suddenly  she  paused  opposite  one  of  the  large  mir- 
rors in  the  room.  A  coil  of  hair  had  loosened  itself ;  she 
put  it  right ;  and  still  stood  motionless,  interrogating 
herself  in  a  proud  concentration. 

"  Well.''  —  I  am  quite  ready  for  him." 

But  her  heart  beat  uncomfortably  fast  as  the  door 
opened,  and  Mark  Winnington  entered. 


Chapter  V 

AS  Winnington  advanced  with  outstretched  hand  to 
greet  her,  Delia  was  conscious  of  a  striking  phys- 
ical presence,  and  of  an  eye  fixed  upon  her  at  once  kind 
and  penetrating. 

"  How  are  you  ?  You've  been  through  a  terrible 
time!  Are  you  at  all  rested?  I'm  afraid  it  has  been 
a  long,  long  strain." 

He  held  her  hand  in  both  his,  asking  gentle  questions 
about  her  father's  illness,  interrogating  her  looks  the 
while  with  a  frank  concern  and  sympath3\ 

Delia  was  taken  by  sui'prise.  For  the  first  time  that 
day  she  was  reminded  of  what  was  really  the  truth. 
She  was  tired  —  morally  and  physically.  But  Ger- 
trude Man^ell  never  recognised  anything  of  the  kind; 
and  in  her  presence  Delia  rarely  confessed  any  such 
weakness  even  to  herself. 

As  it  was,  her  eyes  and  mouth  wavered  a  little  under 
Winnington's  look. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I  shall  soon  be 
rested." 

They  sat  down.  Delia  was  conscious  —  unwillingly 
conscious,  of  a  nervous  agitation  she  did  her  best  to 
check.  For  Winnington  also  it  was  clearly  an  awkward 
moment.  He  began  at  once  to  talk  of  his  old  recollec- 
tions of  her  parents,  of  her  mother's  beauty,  of  her 
father's  reputation  as  the  most  dashing  soldier  on  the 
North-West  frontier,  in  the  days  when  they  first  met 
in  India. 

77 


78  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  But  his  health  was  even  then  very  poor.  I  sup- 
pose it  was  that  made  him  leave  the  army  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  and  then  Parliament,"  said  Delia.  "  He 
was  ordered  a  warm  climate  for  the  winter.  But  he 
could  never  have  lived  without  working.  His  Governor- 
ship just  suited  him." 

She  spoke  with  charming  softness,  beguiled  from  her 
insensibly  by  Winnington's  own  manner.  At  the  back 
of  Winnington's  mind,  as  they  talked,  ran  perpetual 
ejaculations  —  ejaculations  of  the  natural  man  in  the 
presence  of  so  much  beauty.  But  his  conversation  with 
her  flowed  the  while  with  an  even  gentleness  which  never 
for  a  moment  affected  intimacy,  and  was  touched  here 
and  there  with  a  note  of  deference,  even  of  ceremony, 
which  disarmed  his  companion. 

"  I  never  came  across  your  father  down  here  —  oddly 
enough,"  he  said  presently.  "  He  had  left  Sandhurst 
before  I  went  to  Eton ;  and  then  there  was  Oxford,  and 
then  the  bar.  My  little  place  belonged  then  to  a  cousin, 
and  I  had  hardly  ever  seen  it.  But  of  course  I  knew, 
your  grandmother » —  everybody  did.  She  was  a  great 
centre  —  a  great  figure.  She  has  left  her  mark  here. 
Don't  you  find  it  so?  " 

"  Yes.     Everybody  seems  to  remember  her." 

But,  in  a  moment,  the  girl  before  him  had  changed 
and  stiffened.  It  seemed  to  Winnington,  as  to  Mrs. 
France,  that  she  pulled  herself  up,  reacting  against 
something  that  threatened  her.  The  expression  in  her 
eyes  put  something  between  them. 

"  Perhaps  you  know  " —  she  said  — "  that  my  grand- 
mother didn't  always  get  on  with  my  mother.?  " 

He  wondered  why  she  had  reminded  him  of  that  old 
family  jar,  which  gossip  had  spread  abroad.  Did  it 
really  rankle  in  her  mind  ?     Odd,  that  it  should ! 


Delia  Blanchflower  79 

"Was  that  so?"  he  laughed.  "  Oh,  Lady  Blanch- 
flower  had  her  veins  of  unreason.  One  had  to  know 
where  to  have  her." 

"  She  took  Greeks  for  barbarians  —  my  father  used 
to  say,"  said  Delia,  a  little  grimly.  "  But  she  was  very 
good  to  me  —  and  so  I  was  fond  of  her." 

"  And  she  of  you.  But  there  are  still  tales  going 
about  —  do  you  mind?  —  of  the  dances  you  led  her.  It 
took  weeks  and  months,  they  say,  before  you  and  she  ar- 
rived at  an  armed  truce  —  after  a  most  appalling  state 
of  war !  There's  an  old  gardener  here  —  retired  now  — 
who  remembers  you  quite  well.  He  told  me  yesterday 
that  you  used  to  be  very  friendly  with  him,  and  you  said 
to  him  once  — '  I  like  Granny !  —  she's  the  master  of 


me 


I » >' 


The  laughter  in  Winnington's  eyes  again  kindled  hers. 
"  I  was  a  handful  —  I  know."  There  was  a  pause. 
Then  she  added  — "  And  I'm  afraid  —  I've  gone  on  be- 
ing a  handful !  "  Gesture  and  tone  showed  that  she 
spoke  deliberately. 

"  Most  people  of  spirit  are  —  till  they  come  to  handle 
themselves,"  he  replied,  also  with  a  slight  change  of 
tone. 

"  But  that's  just  what  women  are  never  allowed  to  do, 
Mr.  Winnington ! "  She  turned  suddenly  red,  and 
fronted  him.  "  There's  always  some  man,  who  claims  to 
manage  them  and  their  affairs.  We're  always  in  lead- 
ing-strings —  nobody  ever  admits  we're  grown  up. 
Why  can't  we  be  allowed  like  men  —  to  stumble  along 
our  own  way  ?  If  we  make  mistakes,  let's  pay  for  them ! 
But  let  us  at  some  time  in  our  lives  —  at  least  —  feel 
ourselves  free  beings  !  " 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  purport  of  these  words. 
They  referred  clearly  to  her  father's  will,  and  her  owd 


8o  Delia  Blanchflower 

position.  After  a  moment's  thought,  Winnington  bent 
forward. 

"  I  think  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  he  said 
gravely.  "  And  I  sympathise  with  it  more  than  you 
imagine." 

Deha  looked  up  impetuously  — 

"  Then  why,  Mr.  Winnington,  did  you  consent  to  be 
my  guardian?  " 

"  Because  —  quite  honestly  —  because  I  thought  I 
could  be  of  more  use  to  you  perhaps  than  the  Court  of 
Chancery ;  and  because  your  father's  letter  to  me  was 
one  very  difficult  to  put  aside." 

"  How  could  an3^one  in  my  father's  state  of  health 
really  judge  reasonably!"  cried  Delia.  "I  daresay  it 
sounds  shocking  to  you,  Mr.  Winnington,  but  I  can't 
help  putting  it  to  myself  like  this  —  Papa  was  always 
able  to  contrive  his  own  life  as  he  chose.  In  his  Gover- 
norship he  was  a  small  king.  He  tried  a  good  many  ex- 
periments. Everybod}^  deferred  to  him.  Everybody 
was  glad  to  help  him.  Then  when  his  money  came  and 
the  estate,  nobody  fettered  him  with  conditions ;  nobody 
interfered  with  him.  Grandpapa  and  he  didn't  agree 
in  a  lot  of  things.  Papa  was  a  Liberal ;  and  Grandpapa 
Avas  an  awfully  hot  Conservative.  But  Grandpapa 
didn't  appoint  a  trustee,  or  tie  up  the  estates  —  or  any- 
thing of  that  kind.  It  is  simply  and  solely  because  I 
am  a  woman  that  these  things  are  done !  I  am  not  to  be 
allowed  my  opinions,  in  my  life,  though  Papa  was  quite 
free  to  work  for  his  in  his  life !  This  is  the  kind  of  thing 
we  call  tyranny, —  this  is  the  kind  of  thing  that's  driving 
women  into  revolt !  " 

Delia  had  risen.  She  stood  in  what  Gertrude  Mar- 
veil  would  have  called  her  "  pj'thian  "  attitude,  hands  be- 


Delia  Blanchflower  81 

hind  her,  her  head  thrown  back,  dehvering  her  prophetic 
soul.  Winnington,  as  he  surveyed  her,  was  equally  con- 
scious of  her  beauty  and  her  absurdity.  But  he  kept 
cool,  or  rather  the  natural  faculty  which  had  given  him 
so  much  authority  and  success  in  life  rose  with  a  kind 
of  zest  to  its  new  and  unaccustomed  task. 

"  May  I  perhaps  suggest  —  that  your  father  was 
fifty-two  when  he  succeeded  to  this  estate  —  and  that 
you  are  twenty-one  ?  " 

"  Nearly  twenty-two,"  she  interrupted,  hastily. 

"  Nearly  twenty-two,"  repeated  Winnington.  "  And 
I  assure  you,  that  what  with  '  People's  Budgets,'  and 
prowling  Chancellors,  and  all  the  new  turns  of  the  screw 
that  the  Treasury  is  for  ever  putting  on,  inheriting  an 
estate  nowadays  is  no  simple  m.atter.  Your  father 
thought  of  that.  He  wished  to  provide  someone  to  help 
you." 

"  I  could  have  found  lawyers  to  help  me." 

"  Of  course  you  could.  But  my  experience  is  that 
solicitors  are  good  servants  but  bad  masters.  It  wants 
a  good  deal  of  practical  knowledge  to  direct  them,  so 
that  you  get  what  you  want.  I  have  gone  a  Httle  way 
into  the  business  of  the  estate  this  morning  with  Mr. 
Masham,  and  in  town,  with  the  Morton  Manners  peo- 
ple. I  see  already  some  complications  which  will  take 
me  a  deal  of  time  and  thought  to  straighten  out.  And  I 
am  a  lawyer,  and  if  you  will  let  me  say  so,  just  double 
your  age." 

He  smiled  at  her,  but  Delia's  countenance  did  not  re- 
lax.    Her  mouth  was  scornful. 

"  I  daresay  that's  quite  true,  Mr.  Winnington.  But 
of  course  you  know  it  was  not  on  that  account  —  or  at 
any  rate  not  chiefly  on  that  account,  that  my  father 


82  Delia  Blanchflower 

left  things  as  he  did.  He  wished  " —  she  spoke  clearly 
and  slowly  — "  simply  to  prevent  my  helping  the  Suf- 
frage movement  in  the  way  I  think  best." 

Winnington  too  had  risen,  and  was  standing  with  one 
hand  on  the  mantelpiece.  His  brow  was  slightly  fur- 
rowed, not  frowning  exactly,  but  rather  with  the  ex- 
pression of  one  trying  to  bring  his  mind  into  as  close 
touch  as  possible  with  another  mind. 

"  I  must  of  course  agree  with  you.  That  Is  evidently 
one  of  the  objects  of  the  will,  though  by  no  means  — 
I  think  —  the  only  one.  And  as  to  that,  should  you  not 
ask  yourself  —  had  not  your  father  a  right,  even  a 
duty,  to  look  after  the  disposal  of  his  money  as  he 
thought  best?  Surely  it  was  his  responsibility  —  espe- 
cially as  he  was  old,  and  you  were  young." 

Delia  had  begun  to  feel  impatient  —  to  resent  the 
very  mildness  of  his  tone.  She  felt,  as  though  she  were 
an  insubordinate  child,  being  gently  reasoned  with. 

"  No,  I  don't  admit  it !  "  she  said  passionately.  "  It 
was  tampering  with  the  right  of  the  next  generation !  " 

"  Might  you  not  say  the  same  of  the  whole  —  or  al- 
most the  whole  of  our  system  of  inheritance?  "  he  argued. 
"  I  should  put  it  —  that  the  old  are  always  trying  to 
preserve  and  protect  something  they  know  is  more  pre- 
cious to  them  than  it  can  be  to  the  young  —  something 
as  to  which,  with  the  experience  of  life  behind  them,  they 
believe  they  are  wiser  than  the  young.  Ought  the  young 
to  resent  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  persisted  Delia.  "  Yes!  They  should  be 
left  to  make  their  own  experiments." 

"  They  have  life  wherewith  to  make  them !     But  the 

dead "     He  paused.     But  Delia  felt  and  quivered 

under  the  unspoken  appeal ;  and  also  under  the  quick 
touch  of  something  more  personal  —  more  Intimate  —  In 


Delia  Blanchflower  83 

his  manner,  expressing,  it  seemed,  some  deep  feeling  of 
his  own.  He,  in  turn,  perceived  that  she  had  grown  very 
pale ;  he  guessed  even  that  she  was  suddenly  not  very 
far  from  tears.  He  seemed  to  realise  the  weeks,  perhaps 
months,  of  conflict  through  which  the  girl  had  just 
passed.  He  was  sincerely  sorry  for  her  —  sincerely 
drawn  to  her. 

Delia  broke  the  silence. 

"  It  is  no  good  I  think  discussing  this  any  more  — 
is  it.'*  There's  the  will,  and  the  question  is  " —  she  faced 
him  boldly  — "  how  are  you  and  I  going  to  get  on,  Mr. 
Winnington?  " 

Winnington's  seriousness  broke  up.  He  threw  her  a 
smiling  look,  and  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  began  to 
pace  the  room  reflectively. 

"  I  really  believe  we  can  pull  it  off,  if  we  look  at  it 
coolly,"  he  said  at  last,  pausing  in  front  of  her.  "  I 
am  no  bigot  on  the  Suff'rage  question  —  frankly  I  have 
not  yet  made  up  m}'^  mind  upon  it.  All  that  I  am  clear 
about  —  as  your  father  was  clear  —  is  that  outrage 
and  violence  are  wrong  —  in  any  cause.  I  cannot  believe 
that  we  shan't  agree  there !  " 

He  looked  at  her  keenly.  Delia  was  silent.  Her  face 
betrayed  nothing,  though  her  eyes  met  his  steadily. 

"  And  in  regard  to  that,  there  is  of  course  one  thing 
that  troubles  me  " —  he  resumed  — "  one  thins;  in  which 
I  beg  you  to  take  my  advice  " — 

Delia  breathed  quick. 

"  Gertrude  Marvell?  "  she  said.  "  Of  course  I  knew 
that  was  coming !  " 

"  Yes.  That  we  must  settle,  I  think."  He  kept  his 
eyes  upon  her.  "  You  can  hardly  know  that  she  is  men- 
tioned by  name  in  your  father's  last  letter  —  the  letter 
to   me  —  as   the   one   person   whose    companionship   he 


84  Delia  Blanchflower 

dreaded  for  you  —  the  one  person  he  hoped  you  would 
consent  to  part  from." 

Delia  had  turned  white. 

"  No  —  I  didn't  know." 

"  For  that  reason,  and  for  others,  I  do  entreat  you  " 
—  he  went  on,  earnestly  — "  not  to  keep  her  here.  Miss 
Marvell  may  be  all  that  you  believe  her.  I  have  nothing 
to  say  against  her, —  except  this.  I  am  told  by  those 
who  know  that  she  is  already  quite  notorious  in  the  mili- 
tant movement.  She  has  been  in  prison,  and  she  has 
made  extremely  violent  speeches,  advocating  what  Miss 
Mar\^ell  calls  war,  and  what  plain  people  call  —  crime. 
That  she  should  live  with  you  here  would  not  only  preju- 
dice your  future,  and  divide  you  from  people  who  should 
be  your  natural  friends ;  it  would  be  an  open  disrespect 
to  your  father's  memory." 

There  was  silence.  Then  Delia  said,  evidently 
mastering  her  excitement  with  difficulty. 

"  I  can't  help  it.  She  must  stay  with  me.  Nobody 
need  know  —  about  my  father.  Her  name  is  not  men- 
tioned in  the  will." 

"  No.  That  is  true.  But  his  letter  to  me  as  your 
guardian  and  trustee  ought  to  be  regarded  equitably  as 
part  of  the  will ;  and  I  do  not  see  how  it  would  be  pos- 
sible for  me  to  acquiesce  in  something  so  directly  con- 
trary to  his  last  wishes.  I  beg  you  to  look  at  it  from  my 
point  of  view " 

"  I  do  " —  said  Delia,  flushing  again.  "  But  my  let- 
ter warned  you " 

"  Yes  —  but  I  felt  on  receiving  it  that  you  could  not 
possibly  be  aware  of  the  full  strength  of  your  father's 
feeling.     Let  me  read  you  his  words." 

He  took  an  envelope  from  his  pocket,  observing  her. 
Delia  hastily  interposed. 


Delia  Blanchflovver  8^ 

"  Don't,  Mr  Winnington !  —  I'm  sure  I  know." 

"  It  is  really  my  duty  to  read  it  to  you,"  he  said, 
courteously  but  finnly. 

She  endured  it.  The  only  sign  of  agitation  she 
shewed  was  the  trembling  of  her  hands  on  the  back  of 
the  chair  she  leant  upon.  And  when  he  returned  it  to 
his  pocket,  she  considered  for  a  moment  or  two,  before 
she  said,  breathing  unevenly,  and  stumbling  a  little. — 

"  That  makes  no  difference,  Mr.  Winnington.  I  ex- 
pect you  think  me  a  monster.  All  the  same  I  loved  my 
father  in  my  own  way.  But  I  am  not  going  to  barter 
away  my  freedom  for  anything  or  anyone.  I  am  not 
part  of  my  father,  I  am  myself.  And  he  is  not  here  to 
be  injured  or  hurt  by  anything  I  do.  I  intend  to  stick 
to  Gertrude  Marvell  —  and  she  to  me." 

And  having  delivered  her  ultimatum,  she  stood  like  a 
young  goddess,  expectant  and  defiant. 

Winnington's  manner  changed.  He  straightened 
himself,  with  a  slight  shake  of  his  broad  shoulders,  and 
went  to  look  out  of  the  window  at  the  end  of  the  room. 
Delia  was  left  to  contemplate  the  back  of  a  very  tall  man 
in  a  serge  suit  and  to  rate  herself  for  the  thrill  —  or  the 
trepidation  —  she  could  not  help  feeling.  What  would 
he  sa}^  when  he  spoke  again  .^  She  was  angry  with  her- 
self that  she  could  not  quite  tinithfully  say  that  she  did 
not  care. 

When  he  returned,  she  divined  another  man.  The 
tone  was  as  courteous  as  ever,  but  the  first  relation  be- 
tween them  had  disappeared;  or  rather  it  had  become  a 
business  relation,  a  relation  of  affairs. 

"  You  will  of  course  understand  —  that  I  cannot 
acquiesce  in  that  arrangement  ?  " 

Delia's  uncomfortable  sense  of  humor  found  vent  in 
a  laugh  —  as  civil  however  as  she  could  make  it. 


86  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  I  do  understand.  But  I  don't  quite  see  what  3'ou 
can  do,  Mr.  Winnington  !  " 

He  smiled  —  quite  pleasantly. 

"  Nor  do  I  —  just  yet.  But  of  course  Miss  Marvell 
will  not  expect  that  your  father's  estate  should  provide 
her  with  the  salary  that  would  naturally  fall  to  a  chap- 
eron whom  your  guardian  could  approve?  " 

"  I  shall  see  to  that.  We  shall  not  trouble  3'ou,"  said 
Delia,  rather  fiercely. 

"  And  I  shall  ask  to  see  Miss  Marvell  before  I  go  this 
morning  —  that  I  may  point  out  to  her  the  impropriety 
of  remaining  here  against  your  father's  express  wishes." 

Delia  nodded. 

"  All  right  —  but  it  won't  do  any  good." 

He  made  no  reply,  except  to  turn  immediately  to  the 
subject  of  her  place  of  residence  and  her  allowance. 

"  It  is  I  believe  understood  that  you  will  live  mainly 
here  —  at  Maumsey." 

"  On  the  contrary !  —  I  wish  to  spend  a  great  part  of 
the  winter  in  London." 

"With  Miss  Marvell.?" 

"  Certainly." 

*'  I  cannot,  I  am  afraid,  let  you  expect  that  I  shall 
provide  the  mone}-." 

"  It  is  my  own  money  !  " 

"  Not  legally.  I  hate  insisting  on  these  things ;  but 
perhaps  you  ought  to  know  that  the  whole  of  your 
father's  property  —  everything  that  he  left  behind  him, 
is  in  trust." 

"  Which  means  " —  cried  Delia,  quivering  again  — 
"  that  I  am  really  a  pauper !  —  that  I  own  nothing  but 
my  clothes  —  barely  those  !  " 

He  felt  himself  a  brute.  "  Can  I  really  keep  this 
up  !  "  he  thought.     Aloud,  he  said  — "  If  you  would  only 


Delia  Blanchflower  87 

make  it  a  little  easy  for  your  trustee,  he  would  be  only 
too  thankful  to  follow  out  your  wishes !  " 

Delia  made  no  reply,  and  Winnington  took  another 
turn  up  and  down  before  he  paused  in  front  of  her  with 
the  words :  — 

"  Can't  we  come  to  a  compact?     If  I  agree  to  London 

—  say  for  six  or  seven  weeks  —  is  there  no  promise  you 
can  make  me  in  return?  " 

With  an  inward  laugh  Delia  remembered  Gertrude's 
injunction  to  "  keep  something  to  bargain  with." 

"  I  don't  know  " —  she  said,  reluctantly.  "  What  sort 
of  promise  do  you  want?  " 

"  I  want  one  equal  to  the  concession  you  ask  me  to 
make,"  he  said  gravel}".  "  In  my  eyes  nothing  could  be 
more  unfitting  than  that  you  should  be  staying  in  Lon- 
don —  during  a  time  of  particularl}'^  violent  agitation 

—  under  the  chaperonage  of  Miss  Marvell,  who  is  al- 
ready committed  to  this  agitation.  If  I  agree  to  such 
a  direct  contradiction  of  your  father's  wishes,  I  must  at 
least  have  your  assurance  that  you  will  do  nothing  vio- 
lent or  illegal,  either  down  here  or  in  London,  and  that  in 
this  house  above  all  you  will  take  some  pains  to  respect 
Sir  Robert's  wishes.  That  I  am  sure  you  will  prom- 
ise me?  " 

She  could  not  deny  the  charm  of  his  direct  appealing 
look,  and  she  hesitated. 

"  I  was  going  to  have  a  drawing-room  meeting  here  as 
soon  as  possible  " —  she  said,  slowly. 

"  On  behalf  of  the  '  Daughters  of  Revolt '?  " 

She  silently  assented. 

"  I  may  feel  sure  —  may  I  not?  —  that  3'ou  will  give 
it  up?" 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  conscience  with  us  " —  she  said 
proudly  — "  to  spread  our  message  wherever  we  go." 


88  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  allow  you  a  conscience  all  to 
yourself,"  he  said  smiling.  "  Consider  how  I  shall  be 
straining  mine  —  in  agreeing  to  the  London  plan !  " 

"  Very  well  " —  the  words  came  out  reluctantly.  "  If 
you  insist  —  and  if  London  is  agreed  upon  —  I  will  give 
it  up." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  quietly.  "  And  you  will  take 
part  in  no  acts  of  violence,  either  here  or  in  London? 
It  seems  strange  to  use  such  words  to  you.  I  hate 
to  use  them.  But  with  the  news  in  this  week's  papers 
I  can't  help  it.     You  will  promise?  " 

There  was  a  short  silence. 

"  I  will  join  in  nothing  militant  down  here,"  said 
Delia  at  last.     "  I  have  already  told  Miss  Marvell  so." 

"Or  in  London?" 

She  straightened  herself. 

"  I  promise  nothing  about  London." 

Guardian  and  ward  looked  straight  into  each  other's 
faces  for  a  few  moments.  DeHa's  resistance  had  stirred 
a  passion  —  a  tremor  —  in  her  pulses,  she  had  never 
known  in  her  struggle  with  her  father.  Winnington 
was  clearly  debating  with  himself,  and  Delia  seemed  to 
see  the  thoughts  coursing  through  the  grey  eyes  that 
looked  at  her,  seriously  indeed,  yet  not  without  suggest- 
ing a  man's  humorous  spirit  behind  them. 

"  Very  well  " —  he  said  — "  we  will  talk  of  London 
later. —  Now  may  we  just  sit  down  and  run  through  the 
household  arrangements  and  expenses  here  —  before  I 
see  Miss  Marvell.  I  want  to  know  exactly  what  you 
want  doing  to  this  house,  and  how  we  can  fix  you  up 
comfortably." 

Delia  assented.  Winnington  produced  a  note-book 
and  pencil.  Through  his  companion's  mind  was  running 
meanwhile  an  animated  debate. 


Delia  Blanchflower  89 

"  I'm  not  bound  to  tell  him  of  those  other  meetmgs 
I  have  promised  ?  *  Yes,  you  are ! '  No, —  I'm  not. 
They're  not  to  be  here  —  and  if  I  once  begin  asking  his 
leave  for  things  —  there'll  be  no  end  to  it.  I  mean  to 
shew  him  —  once  for  all  —  that  I  am  of  age,  and  my  own 
mistress.     He  can't  starve  me  —  or  beat  me !  " 

Her  face  broke  into  suppressed  laughter  as  she  bent 
it  over  the  figures  that  Winnington  was  presenting  to  her. 

"  Well,  I  am  rather  disappointed  that  you  don't  want 
to  do  more  to  the  house,"  said  Winnington,  as  he  rose 
and  put  up  his  note-book.  "  I  thought  it  might  have 
been  an  occupation  for  the  autumn  and  winter.  But  at 
least  we  can  decide  on  the  essential  things,  and  the  work 
can  be  done  while  you  are  in  town.  I  am  glad  you  like 
the  ser\'ants  Mrs.  Bird  has  found  for  you.  Now  I  am 
going  off  to  the  Bank  to  settle  everything  about  the 
opening  of  your  account,  and  the  quarterly  cheque  we 
have  agreed  on  shall  be  paid  in  to-morrow." 

"  Very  well."  But  instantly  through  the  girl's  mind 
there  shot  up  the  qualifying  thought.  "  He  may  say 
how  it  is  to  be  spent  —  but  /  have  made  no  promise !  " 

He  approached  her  to  take  his  leave. 

"  My  sister  comes  home  to-night.  Will  you  try  the 
new  car  and  have  tea  with  us  on  Thursday.''  "  Delia  as- 
sented. "  And  before  I  go  I  should  like  to  say  a  word 
about  some  of  the  neighbours." 

He  tried  to  give  her  a  survey  of  the  land.  Lad}'  Ton- 
bridge,  of  course,  would  be  calling  upon  her  directly. 
She  was  actually  in  the  village  —  in  the  tiniest  bandbox 
of  a  house.  Her  husband's  brutality  had  at  last  —  tv,-o 
years  before  this  date  —  forced  her  to  leave  him,  with 
her  girl  of  fifteen.  "  A  miserable  story  —  better  taken 
for  granted.      She  is  the  pluckiest  woman  alive !  "     Then 


90  Delia  Blanchflower 

the  Amberleys  —  the  Rector,  his  wife  and  daughter  Susy- 
were  pleasant  people  — "  Susy  is  a  particular  friend  of 
mine.     It'll  be  jolly  if  you  like  her." 

"  Oh,  no,  she  won't  take  to  me ! "  said  Delia  with  de- 
cision. 

"Why  not?" 

But  Delia  only  shook  her  head,  a  little  contemptu- 
ously. 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  Winnington.  "  Well,  good 
night.  "  Remember,  anything  I  can  do  for  you  —  here 
I  am." 

His  eyes  smiled,  but  Delia  was  perfectly  conscious 
that  the  eager  cordiality,  the  touch  of  something  like 
tenderness,  which  had  entered  into  his  earlier  manner, 
had  disappeared.  She  realised,  and  with  a  moment's 
soreness,  that  she  had  qfFended  his  sense  of  right  — 
of  what  a  daughter's  feeling  should  be  towards  a  dead 
father,  at  any  rate,  in  the  first  hours  of  bereavement, 
when  the  recollections  of  death  and  suffering  are  still 
fresh. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  she  thought  stubbornly.  "  It's  all 
part  of  the  price  one  pays." 

But  when  he  was  gone,  she  stood  a  long  time  by  the 
window  without  moving,  thinking  about  the  hour  which 
had  just  passed.  The  impression  left  upon  her  by  Win- 
nington's  personality  was  uncomfortably  strong.  She 
knew  now  that,  in  spite  of  her  bravado,  she  had  dreaded 
to  find  it  so,  and  the  reality  had  more  than  confirmed  the 
anticipation.  She  was  committed  to  a  struggle  with  a 
man  whom  she  must  respect,  and  could  not  help  liking; 
whose  only  wish  was  to  help  and  protect  her.  And  be- 
side the  man's  energetic  and  fruitful  maturity,  she  be- 
came, as  it  were,  the  spectator  of  her  own  youth  and 
stumbling  inexperience. 


Delia  Blanchflower  91 

But  these  misgivings  did  not  last  long.  A  passionate 
conviction,  a  fanatical  affection,  came  to  her  aid,  and  her 
doubts  were  impatiently  dismissed. 

Winnington  found  Miss  Blanchflower's  chaperon  in  a 
little  sitting-room  on  the  ground  floor  already  appropri- 
ated to  her,  surrounded  with  a  vast  litter  of  letters  and 
newspapers  which  she  hastily  pushed  aside  as  he  entered. 
He  had  a  long  interview  with  her,  and  as  he  afterwards 
confessed  to  Lady  Tonbridge,  he  had  rarely  put  his  best 
powers  forward  to  so  little  purpose.  Miss  Marv'cll  did 
not  attempt  to  deny  that  she  was  coming  to  live  at 
Maumsey  in  defiance  of  the  wishes  of  Delia's  father  and 
guardian,  and  of  the  public  opinion  of  those  who  were  to 
be  henceforward  Delia's  friends  and  neighbours. 

"  But  Delia  has  asked  me  to  live  with  her.  She  is 
twenty-one,  and  women  are  not  now  the  mere  chattels 
they  once  were.  Both  she  and  I  have  wills  of  our  own. 
You  will  of  course  give  me  no  salary.  I  require  none. 
But  I  don't  see  how  you're  going  to  turn  me  out  of 
Delia's  house,  if  Delia  wishes  me  to  stay." 

And  Winnington  must  needs  acknowledge,  at  least  to 
himself,  that  he  did  not  see  either. 

He  put  the  lady  however  through  a  cross-examination 
as  to  her  connection  with  militancy  which  would  have 
embarrassed  or  intimidated  most  women ;  but  Gertrude 
Marvell,  a  slight  and  graceful  figure,  sitting  erect  on  the 
edge  of  her  chair,  bore  it  with  perfect  equanimity,  ap- 
parently frank,  and  quite  unashamed.  Certainly  she  be- 
longed to  the  "  Daughters  of  Revolt,"  the  record  of  her 
imprisonment  was  there  to  shew  it;  and  so  did  Delia. 
The  aim  of  both  their  lives  was  to  obtain  the  parliamen- 
tary vote  for  women,  and  in  her  opinion  and  that  of 
many  others,  the  time  for  constitutional  action  — "  for 


92  Delia  Blanchflower 

that  nonsense  " —  as  she  scornfully  put  it,  had  long 
gone  by.  As  to  what  she  Intended  to  do,  or  advise  Delia 
to  do,  that  was  her  own  affair.  One  did  not  give  away 
one's  plans  to  the  enemy.  But  she  realised,  of  course, 
that  it  would  be  unkind  to  Delia  to  plunge  her  into  pos- 
sible trouble,  or  to  run  the  risk  herself  of  arrest  or  im- 
prisonment during  the  early  days  of  Delia's  mourning; 
and  of  her  own  accord  she  graciously  offered  the  assur- 
ance that  neither  she  nor  Delia  would  commit  any  ille- 
gality during  the  two  months  or  so  that  they  might  bo 
settled  at  Maumsey.  As  to  what  might  happen  later, 
she,  like  Delia,  declined  to  give  any  assurances.  The 
parliamentary  situation  was  becoming  desperate,  and 
any  action  whatever  on  the  part  of  women  which  might 
serve  to  prod  the  sluggish  mind  of  England  before  an- 
other general  election,  was  in  her  view  not  only  legitimate 
but  essential. 

"  Of  course  I  know  what  your  conscience  says  on  the 
matter,"  she  said,  with  her  steady  eyes  on  Winnington. 
"  But  —  excuse  me  for  saying  so  —  your  conscience  is 
not  my  affair." 

Winnington  rose,  and  prepared  to  take  his  leave.  If 
he  felt  nonplussed,  he  managed  not  to  shew  it. 

"  Very  well.  For  the  present  I  acquiesce.  But  you 
will  scarcely  wonder,  Miss  Marvell,  after  this  interview 
between  us,  if  you  find  3^ourself  henceforward  under  ob- 
servation. You  are  here  in  defiance  of  Miss  Blanch- 
flower's  legal  guardian.  I  protest  against  your  Influ- 
ence over  her ;  and  I  disapprove  of  your  presence  here. 
I  shall  do  my  besl  to  protect  her  from  you." 

She  nodded. 

"  There  of  course,  you  Mali  be  in  your  right." 

And  rising,  she  turned  to  the  open  window  and  the 
bright  garden   outside,   with  a   smiling  remark  on   the 


Delia  Blanchflower  93 

decorative  value  of  begonias,  as  though  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. 

Winnington's  temperament  did  not  allow  him  to  an- 
swer a  woman  uncivilly  under  any  circumstances.  But 
they  parted  as  duelHsts  part  before  the  fray.  Miss 
Marvell  acknowledged  his  "  Good  afternoon,"  with  a 
pleasant  bow,  keeping  her  hands  the  while  in  the  pockets 
of  her  serge  jacket,  and  she  remained  standing  till  Win- 
nington  had  left  the  room. 

"  Now  for  Lady  Tonbridge !  "  thought  Winnington, 
as  he  rode  away.  "  If  she  don't  help  me  out,  I'm 
done!  " 

At  the  gate  of  Maumsey  he  stopped  to  speak  to  the 
lodge-keeper,  and  as  he  did  so,  a  man  opened  the  gate, 
and  came  in.  With  a  careless  nod  to  Winnington  he 
took  his  way  up  the  drive.  Winnington  looked  after 
him  in  some  astonishment. 

"  What  on  earth  can  that  fellow  be  doing  here.''  " 

He  scented  mischief;  little  suspecting  however  that  a 
note  from  Gertrude  Marvell  lay  in  the  pocket  of  the 
man's  shabby  overcoat,  together  with  that  copy  of  the 
Tocsin  which  Delia's  sharp  eyes  had  detected  the  week 
before  in  the  hands  of  its  owner. 

Meanwhile  as  he  drove  homeward,  instead  of  the  de- 
tails of  county  business,  the  position  of  Delia  Blanch- 
flower,  her  personality,  her  loveliness,  her  defiance  of  him, 
absorbed  his  mind  completely.  He  began  to  foresee  the 
realities  of  the  struggle  before  him,  and  the  sheer  dram- 
atic interest  of  it  held  him,  as  though  someone  presented 
the  case,  and  bade  him  watch  how  it  worked  out. 


Chapter  VI 

THE  village  or  rather  small  town  of  Great  Maum- 
sej  took  its  origin  in  a  clearing  of  that  royal  forest 
which  had  now  receded  from  it  a  couple  of  miles  to  the 
south.  But  it  was  still  a  rural  and  woodland  spot. 
The  trees  in  the  fields  round  it  had  still  a  look  of  wild- 
ness,  as  survivors  from  the  primeval  chase,  and  were 
grouped  more  freely  and  romantically  than  in  other 
places ;  while  from  the  hill  north  of  the  church,  one  could 
see  the  New  Forest  stretching  away,  blue  beyond  blue, 
purple  beyond  purple,  till  it  met  the  shining  of  the  sea. 

Great  Maumsey  had  a  vast  belief  in  itself,  and  was 
reckoned  exclusive  and  clannish  by  other  places.  It 
was  proud  of  its  old  Georgian  houses,  with  their  white 
fronts,  their  pillared  porches,  and  the  pediment  gables  in 
their  low  roofs.  The  owners  of  these  houses,  of  which 
there  were  many,  charmingly  varied,  in  the  long  main 
street,  were  well  aware  that  they  had  once  been  old-fash- 
ioned, and  were  now  as  much  admired  in  their  degree,  as 
the  pictures  of  the  great  English  artists,  Hogarth,  Rey- 
nolds, Romney,  with  which  they  were  contemporary. 
There  were  earlier  houses  too,  of  brick  and  timber,  with 
overhanging  top  stories  and  moss-grown  roofs.  There 
was  a  green  surrounded  with  post  and  rails,  on  which  a 
veritable  stocks  still  survived,  kept  in  careful  repair  as  a 
memento  of  our  barbarous  forbears,  by  the  parish 
Council.  The  church,  dating  from  that  wonderful  four- 
teenth century  when  all  the  world  must  have  gone  mad 

for  church-building,  stood  back  from  the  main  street, 

94 


Delia  Blanchflower  95* 

with  the  rectory  beside  it,  in  a  modest  seclusion  of  their 
own. 

It  was  all  very  English,  very  spick  and  span,  and 
apparently  very  well  to  do.  That  the  youth  of  the  vil- 
lage was  steadily  leaving  it  for  the  Colonies,  that  the 
constant  marrying  in  and  in  which  had  gone  on  for 
generations  had  produced  an  ugly  crop  of  mental  de- 
ficiency, and  physical  deformity  among  the  inhabitants 
—  that  the  standard  of  morals  was  too  low,  and  the 
standard  of  drink  too  high  —  were  matters  well  known 
to  the  Rector  and  the  Doctor.  But  there  were  no  in- 
sanitary cottages,  and  no  obvious  scandals  of  any  sort. 
The  Maumsey  estate  had  always  been  well  managed; 
there  were  a  good  many  small  gentlefolk  who  lived  in 
the  Georgian  houses,  and  owing  to  the  competition  of  the 
railways,  agricultural  wages  were  rather  better  than 
elsewhere. 

About  a  mile  from  the  eastern  end  of  the  village  was 
the  small  modernised  manor-house  of  Bridge  End,  which 
belonged  to  Mark  Winnington,  and  where  his  sister 
Alice,  Mrs.  Mathcson,  kept  him  company  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  year.  The  gates  leading  to  Maumsey  lay 
a  little  west  of  the  village,  while  on  the  hill  to  the  north 
rose,  conspicuous  against  its  backgi'ound  of  wood,  the 
famous  old  house  of  Monk  Lawrence.  It  looked  down 
upon  Maumsey  on  the  one  hand  and  Bridge  End  on  the 
other.  It  was  generally  believed  that  the  owner  of  it. 
Sir  Wilfrid  Lang,  had  exhausted  his  resources  in  restor- 
ing it,  and  that  it  was  the  pressure  of  debt  rather  than 
his  wife's  health  which  had  led  to  its  being  shut  up  so 
long. 

The  dwellers  in  the  village  regarded  it  as  the  jewel 
in  their  landscape,  their  common  heritage  and  pride. 
Lady  Tonbridge,  whose  little  drawing-room  and  garden 


96  Delia  Blanchfiower 

to  the  back  looked  out  on  the  hill  and  the  old  house,  was 
specially  envied  because  she  possessed  so  good  a  view  of 
it.  She  herself  inhabited  one  of  the  very  smallest  of  the 
Georgian  houses,  in  the  main  street  of  Maumsey.  She 
paid  a  rent  of  no  more  than  £40  a  year  for  it,  and 
Maumsey  people  who  liked  her,  felt  affectionately  con- 
cerned that  a  duke's  grand-daughter  should  be  reduced 
to  a  rent  and  quarters  so  insignificant. 

Lady  Tonbridge  however  was  not  at  all  concerned  for 
the  smallness  of  her  house.  She  regarded  it  as  the  out- 
ward and  visible  sign  of  the  most  creditable  action  of  her 
life  —  the  action  which  would  —  or  should  —  bring  her 
most  marks  when  the  recording  angel  came  to  make  up 
her  account.  Every  time  she  surveyed  its  modest  pro- 
portions the  spirit  of  freedom  danced  within  her,  and  she 
envied  none  of  the  noble  halls  in  which  she  had  formerly 
lived,  and  to  some  of  which  she  still  paid  occasional 
visits. 

At  tea-time,  on  the  day  following  Winnington's  first 
interview  with  his  ward,  Madeleine  Tonbridge  came  into 
her  little  drawing-room,  in  her  outdoor  things,  and 
carrying  a  bundle  of  books  under  the  arai. 

As  far  as  such  words  could  ever  apply  to  her  she  was 
tired  and  dusty.  But  her  little  figure  was  so  alert  and 
trim,  her  grey  linen  dress  and  its  appointments  so  dainty, 
and  the  apple-red  in  her  small  cheeks  so  bright,  that  one 
might  have  conceived  her  as  just  fresh  from  a  maid's 
hands,  and  stepping  out  to  amuse  herself,  instead  of  as 
just  returning  from  a  tedious  afternoon's  work,  by 
which  she  had  earned  the  large  sum  of  five  shillings.  A 
woman  of  forty-five,  she  looked  her  age,  and  she  had 
never  possessed  any  positive  beauty,  unless  it  were  the 
beauty  of  delicate  and  harmonious  proportion.  Yet 
she  had  been  pestered  with  suitors  as  a  girl,  and  un- 


Delia  Blanchflower  97 

fortunately  had  married  the  least  desirable  of  them 
all.  And  now  in  middle  life,  no  one  had  more  devoted 
men-friends ;  and  that  without  exciting  a  breath  of 
scandal,  even  in  a  situation  where  one  might  have 
thought  it  inevitable. 

She  looked  round  her  as  she  entered. 

"  Nora  !  —  where  are  you  ?  " 

A  girl,  apparently  about  seventeen,  put  her  head 
in  through  the  French  window  that  opened  to  the  gar- 
den. 

"  Ready  for  tea,  Mummy  ?  " 

"  Rather !  " —  said  Lady  Tonbridge,  with  energy,  as 
she  put  a  match  to  the  little  spirit  kettle  on  the  tea- 
table  where  everything  stood  ready.  "  Come  in,  dar- 
ling." 

And  throwing  off  her  hat  and  jacket,  she  sank  into 
a  comfortable  arm-chair  with  a  sigh  of  fatigue.  Her 
daughter  quietly  loosened  her  mother's  walking-shoes 
and  took  them  away.  Then  they  kissed  each  other, 
and  Nora  went  to  look  after  the  tea.  She  was  a  slim, 
pale-faced  school-girl,  with  yellow-brown  eyes,  and 
yellow-brown  hair,  not  as  yet  very  attractive  in  looks, 
but  her  mother  was  convinced  that  it  was  only  the  plain- 
ness of  the  cygnet,  and  that  the  swan  was  only  a  few 
years  off.  Nora,  who  at  seventeen  had  no  illusions,  was 
grateful  to  her  mother  for  the  belief  but  did  not  share 
it  in  the  least. 

"  I'm  sure  you  gave  that  girl  half  an  hour  over  time," 
she  said  reprovingly,  as  she  handed  Lady  Tonbridge  her 
cup  of  tea  — "  I  can't  think  why  you  do  it."  She  re- 
ferred to  the  solicitor's  daughter  whom  Lady  Tonbridge 
had  been  that  afternoon  instructing  in  the  uses  of  the 
French  participle. 

"  Nor  can  I.     A  kind  of  ridiculous  esprit  de  metier 


98  Delia  Blanchflower 

I  suppose.  I  undertook  to  teach  her  French,  and  when 
after  all  these  weeks  she  don't  seem  to  know  a  thing 
more  than  when  she  began,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  picking 
her  dear  papa's  pockets." 

"  Which  is  absurd,"  said  Nora,  buttering  her  mother's 
toast,  "  and  I  can't  let  you  do  it.  Half  a  crown  an 
hour  is  silly  enough  already,  and  for  you  to  throw  in 
half  an  hour  extra  for  nothing,  can't  be  stood." 

"  I  wish  I  could  get  it  up  to  four  hours  a  day,"  sighed 
the  mother,  munching  happily  at  her  toast,  while  she 
held  out  her  small  stockinged  feet  to  the  fire  which  Nora 
had  just  lit.  "Just  think.  Ten  shilhngs  a  day  —  six 
days  a  week  —  ten  months  in  the  j-ear.  Why  it  would 
pay  the  rent,  we  could  have  another  servant,  and  I  could 
give  you  twenty  pounds  a  year  more  for  your  clothes." 

"  Much  obliged  —  but  I  prefer  a  live  Mummy  —  and 
no  clothes  —  to  a  dead  one.     More  tea  ?  " 

"  Thanks.  No  chance,  of  course.  Where  could  one 
find  four  persons  a  day,  in  Maumsey,  or  near  Maum- 
sey,  who  want  to  learn  French?  The  notion's  absurd. 
I  shouldn't  get  the  lessons  I  do,  if  it  weren't  for  the 
'  Honourable.'  " 

"  Snobs ! " 

"  Not  at  all !  Not  a  single  family  out  of  the  people 
I  go  to  deserve  to  be  called  snobs.  It's  the  natural 
dramatic  instinct  in  us  all.  You  don't  expect  an  '  Hon- 
ourable '  to  be  giving  French  lessons  at  half  a  crown  an 
hour,  and  when  she  does,  you  say  — '  Hullo !  Some 
screw  loose,  somewhere ! ' —  and  you  at  once  feel  a  new 
interest  in  the  French  tongue,  and  ask  her  to  come  along. 
I  don't  mind  it  a  bit.  I  sit  and  spin  3'^ams  about  Draw- 
ing-rooms and  Court  balls,  and  it  all  helps. —  When  did 
you  get  home  ?  " 

For  Nora  attended  a  High  School  in  a  neighbouring 


Delia  Blanchflower  99 

town,  some  five  miles  away,  journeying  there  and  back 
by  train. 

"  Half-past  four.  I  met  Mr.  Winnington  in  his  car, 
and  he  said  he'd  be  here  about  six." 

"  Good.  I'm  dying  to  talk  to  him.  I  have  written 
to  the  Abbey  to  say  we  will  call  to-morrow.  Of  course, 
I  ought  to  be  her  nursing  mother  in  these  parts  " —  said 
Lady  Tonbridge  reflectively  — "  I  knew  Sir  Robert  in 
frocks,  and  we  were  always  pals.  But  my  dear,  it  was  I 
who  hatched  the  cockatrice !  " 

Nora  nodded  gravely. 

"  It  was  I,"  pursued  Lady  Tonbridge,  penitentially, 
— "  who  saddled  him  with  that  woman  —  and  I  know  he 
never  forgave  me.  He  as  good  as  told  me  so  when  we 
last  met  —  for  those  few  hours  —  at  Basle.  But  how 
could  I  tell  ?  How  could  anybody  tell  —  she  would  turn 
out  such  a  creature?  I  only  knew  that  she  had  taken  all 
kinds  of  honours.  I  thought  I  was  sending  him  a  treas- 
ure." 

"  All  the  same  you  did  it,  Mummy.  And  it  won't  do 
to  give  yourself  airs  now !  That's  what  Mr.  Winning- 
ton  says.     You've  got  to  help  him  out." 

"  I  say,  don't  talk  secrets!  "  said  a  voice  just  outside 
the  room.  "  For  I  can't  help  hearing  'em.  May  I  come 
in?" 

And,  pushing  the  half-open  door,  Mark  Winnington 
stood  smiling  on  the  threshold. 

"  I  apologise.  But  your  little  maid  let  me  in  —  and 
then  vanished  somewhere,  like  greased  lightning  —  after 
a  dog." 

"  Oh,  come  in,"  said  Lady  Tonbridge,  with  resigna- 
tion, extending  at  the  same  time  a  hand  of  welcome  — 
"  the  little  maid,  as  you  call  her,  only  came  from  your 
workhouse  yesterday,  and  I  haven't  yet  discovered  a 


100  Delia  Blanchflower 

grain  of  sense  in  her.  But  she  gets  plenty  of  exercise. 
If  she  isn't  chasing  dogs,  it's  cats." 

"  Don't  you  attack  ni}'  schools,"  said  Winnington 
seating  himself  at  the  tea-table.  They're  Al,  and  you're 
very  lucky  to  get  one  of  my  girls." 

Madeleine  Tonbridge  replied  tartly,  that  if  he  was  a 
poor-law  guardian,  and  responsible  for  a  barrack  school 
it  was  no  cause  for  boasting.  She  had  not  long  parted 
with  another  of  his  girls,  who  had  tried  on  her  blouses, 
and  gone  out  in  her  boots.  She  thought  of  offering  the 
new  girl  a  free  and  open  choice  of  her  wardrobe  to  begin 
with,  so  as  to  avoid  unpleasantness. 

"  We  all  know  that  every  mistress  has  the  maid  she 
deserves,"  said  Winnington,  deep  in  gingerbread  cake. 
"  I  leave  it  there " 

"  Yes,  jolly  well  do!"  cried  Nora,  who  had  come  to 
sit  on  a  stool  in  front  of  her  mother  and  Winnington,  her 
eager  eyes  glancing  from  one  to  the  other  — "  Don't 
start  Mummy  on  servants,  Mr.  Winnington.  If  you  do, 
I  shall  go  to  bed.  There's  only  one  thing  worth  talking 
about  —  and  that's " 

"  Maumsey  !  "  he  said,  laughing  at  her. 

"  Have  you  accomplished  anything? "  asked  Lady 
Tonbridge.   "  Don't  tell  me  you've  dislodged  the  Fury  .'^  " 

Winnington  shook  his  head. 

"  J'y  suis  —  y-y  reste!  " 

"  I  thought  so.  There  is  no  civilised  way  by  which 
men  can  eject  a  woman.      Tell  me  all  about  it." 

Winnington,  however,  instead  of  expatiating  on  the 
Maumsey  household,  turned  the  conversation  to  some- 
thing else  —  especially  to  Nora's  first  attempts  at  golf, 
in  which  he  had  been  her  teacher.  Nora,  whose  rea- 
sonableness   was    abnormal,    very    soon  took    the    hint, 


Delia  Blanchflower  101 

and  after  five  minutes'  "  chaff  "  with  Winnington,  to 
whom  she  was  devoted,  she  took  up  her  work  and  went 
back  to  the  garden. 

"  Nobody  ever  snubs  me  so  efficiently  as  Nora,"  said 
Madeleine  Tonbridge,  with  resignation,  "  though  you 
come  a  good  second.  Discreet  I  shall  never  be.  Don't 
tell  me  anything  if  you  don't  want  to." 

"  But  of  course  I  want  to !  And  there  is  nobody  in 
the  world  so  absolutely  bound  to  help  me  as  you." 

"  I  knew  you'd  say  that.  Don't  pile  it  on.  Give  me 
the  kitten  —  and  describe  your  proceedings." 

Winnington  handed  her  the  grey  Persian  kitten  re- 
posing on  a  distant  chair,  and  Lady  Tonbridge,  who  al- 
ways found  the  process  conducive  to  clear  thinking, 
stroked  and  combed  the  creature's  beautiful  fur,  while 
the  man  talked, —  with  entire  freedom  now  that  they 
were  tete-a-tete. 

She  was  his  good  friend  indeed,  and  she  had  also  been 
the  good  friend  of  Sir  Robert  Blanchflower.  It  was 
natural  that  to  her  he  should  lay  his  perplexities  bare. 

But  after  she  had  heard  his  story  and  given  her 
best  mind  to  his  position,  she  could  not  refrain  from 
expressing  the  wonder  she  had  felt  from  the  beginning 
that  he  should  ever  have  accepted  it  at  all. 

"What  on  earth  made  you  do  it?  Bobby  Blanch- 
flower had  no  more  real  claim  on  you  than  this  kitten !  " 

Winnington's  grey  eyes  fixed  on  the  trees  outside 
shewed  a  man  trying  to  retrace  his  own  course. 

"  He  wrote  me  a  very  touching  letter.  And  I  have 
always  thought  that  men  —  and  women  —  ought  to  be 
ready  to  do  this  kind  of  service  for  each  other.  I  should 
have  felt  a  beast  if  I  had  said  No,  at  once.     But  I  con- 


102  Delia  Blanchflower 

fess  now  that  I  have  seen  Miss  Delia,  I  don't  know 
whether  I  can  do  the  slightest  good." 

"  Hold  on ! "  said  Lady  Tonbridge,  sharply, — 
"  You  can't  give  it  up  —  now." 

Winnington  laughed. 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  giving  it  up.  Only  I  warn 
3'ou  that  I  shall  probably  make  a  mess  of  it." 

"  Well  " —  the  tone  was  coolly  reflective  — "  that  may 
do  you  good  —  whatever  happens  to  the  girl.  You  have 
never  made  a  mess  of  anything  yet  in  your  life.  It  will 
be  a  new  experience." 

Winnington  protested  hotly  that  her  remark  only 
shewed  how  little  even  intimate  friends  know  of  each 
other's  messes,  and  that  his  were  already  legion.  Lady 
Tonbridge  threw  him  an  incredulous  look.  As  he  sat 
there  in  his  bronzed  and  vigorous  manhood,  the  first 
crowsfeet  just  beginning  to  shew  round  the  eyes,  and  the 
first  streaks  of  grey  in  the  brown  curls,  she  said  to  her- 
self that  none  of  her  young  men  acquaintance  possessed 
half  the  physical  attractiveness  of  Mark  Winnington ; 
while  none  —  old  or  young  —  could  rival  him  at  all  in 
the  humane  and  winning  spell  he  carried  about  with 
him.  To  see  ]Mark  Winnington  aux  prises  with  an  ad- 
venture in  which  not  even  his  tact,  his  knowledge  of  men 
and  women,  his  candour,  or  his  sweetness,  might  be  suf- 
ficient to  win  success,  piqued  her  curiosity ;  perhaps  even 
flattered  that  slight  inevitable  malice,  wherewith  ordi- 
nary mortals  protect  themselves  against  the  favourites  of 
the  gods. 

She  was  determined  however  to  help  him  if  she  could, 
and  she  put  him  through  a  number  of  questions.  The 
girl  then  was  as  handsome  as  she  promised  to  be.^*  A 
beauty,  said  Winnington  —  and  of  the  heroic  or  poetic 
type.     And  the  Fury.^^     Winnington  described  the  neat, 


Delia  Blanchflower  103 

little  lady,  fashionably  dressed  and  quiet  mannered,  who 
had  embittered  the  last  years  of  Sir  Robert  Blanch- 
flower,  and  firml}^  possessed  herself  of  his  daughter. 

"  You  will  see  her  to-morrow,  at  my  house,  when  you 
come  to  tea.  I  carefully  didn't  ask  her,  but  I  am  cer- 
tain she  will  come,  and  Alice  and  I  shall  of  course  have  to 
receive  her." 

"  She  is  not  thin-skinned  then?  " 

"What  fanatic  is.?  It  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  their 
strength." 

"  She  probably  regards  us  all  as  the  dust  under  her 
feet,"  said  Lady  Tonbridge.  "  I  wonder  what  game  she 
will  be  up  to  here.  Have  you  seen  the  Times  this  morn- 
ing .''  " 

Winnington  nodded.  It  contained  three  serious  cases 
of  arson,  in  which  Suffragette  literature  and  messages 
had  been  discovered  among  the  ruins,  besides  a  num- 
ber of  minor  outrages.  An  energetic  leading  article 
breathed  the  exasperation  of  the  public,  and  pointed 
out  the  spread  of  the  campaign  of  violence. 

By  this  time  Lady  Tonbridge  had  carried  her  visitor 
into  the  garden,  and  they  were  walking  up  and  down 
among  the  late  September  flowers.  Beyond  the  garden 
lay  green  fields  and  hedgerows;  beyond  the  fields  rose 
the  line  of  wooded  hill,  and,  embedded  in  trees,  the  grey 
and  gabled  front  of  Monk  Lawrence. 

Winnington  reported  the  very  meagre  promise  he 
had  been  able  to  get  out  of  his  ward  and  her  compan- 
ion. 

"  The  comfort  is,"  said  Lady  Tonbridge,  "  that  this 
is  a  sane  neighbourhood  —  comparatively.  They  won't 
get  much  support.  Oh,  I  don't  know  though  —  "  she 
added  quickly.  "  There's  that  man  —  Mr.  Lathrop, 
Paul  Lathrop  —  who  took  Wood  Cottage  last  year  — 


104  Delia  Blanchflower 

a  queer  fish,  b}'  all  accounts.  I'm  told  he's  written 
the  most  violent  things  backing  up  the  militants  gener- 
ally. However,  his  own  story  has  put  hi/in  out  of 
Court." 

"His  own  story?"  said  Winnington,  with  a  puzzled 
look. 

"  Don't  be  so  innocent !  "  laughed  Lady  Tonbridge, 
rather  impatientl3\  "  I  always  tell  you  you  don't  give 
half  place  enough  in  life  to  gossip  — "  human  nature's 
daily  food."  I  knew  all  about  him  a  week  after  he  ar- 
rived. However,  I  don't  propose  to  save  you  trouble, 
Mr.  Guardian !  Go  and  look  up  a  certain  divorce  case, 
with  Mr.  Lathrop's  name  in  it,  some  time  last  year  —  if 
you  want  to  know.     That's  enough  for  that." 

But  Winnington  interrupted  her,  with  a  disturbed 
look.  "  I  happened  to  meet  that  very  man  you  are 
speaking  of  —  yesterday  —  in  the  Abbey  drive,  going  to 
call." 

Lady  Tonbridge  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  There  you  see  their  freemasonry.  I  don't  suppose 
they  approve  his  morals  —  but  he  supports  their  poli- 
tics. You  v/on't  be  able  to  banish  him !  —  Well,  so  the 
child  is  lovely?  and  interesting?  " 

Winnington  assented  warmly. 

"But  determined  to  make  herself  a  nuisance  to  you? 
Hm !  Mr.  Mark  —  dear  Mr.  Mark  —  don't  fall  in  love 
with  her !  " 

Winnington's  expression  altered.  He  did  not  answer 
for  a  moment.      Then  he  said,  looking  away  — 

"  Do  you  think  you  need  have  said  that  ?  " 

"  No !  " —  cried  Madeleine  Tonbridge  remorsefully. 
"  I  am  a  wretch.     But  don't  —  don't !  " 

This  time  he  smiled  at  her,  though  not  without  vexa- 
ation. 


Delia  Blanchflower  105 

"  Do  you  forget  that  I  am  nearly  old  enough  to  be  her 
father?  " 

"  Oh  that's  nonsense !  "  she  said  hastily.     "  However 

—  I'm  not  going  to  flatter  you  —  or  tease  you.  Forgive 
me.  I  put  it  out  of  my  head.  I  wonder  if  there  is  any- 
body in  the  field  already  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  Of  course  3'ou  know  this  kind  of  thing  spoils  a  girl's 
prospects  of  marriage  enormously.  Men  won't  nm  the 
risk." 

Winnington  laughed. 

"  And  all  the  time,  you're  a  Suffragist  yourself !  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  am,"  was  the  stout  reply.  "  Here  am 
I,  with  a  house  and  a  daughter,  a  house-parlourmaid, 
a  boot-boy,  and  rates  to  pay.  Why  shouldn't  I  vote  as 
well  as  you?  But  the  difference  between  me  and  the 
Fury  is  that  she  wants  the  vote  this  year  —  this  month 

—  this  minute  —  and  I  don't  care  whether  it  comes  in 
my  time  —  or  Nora's  time  —  or  my  grandchildren's 
time.     I  say  we  ought  to  have  it  —  that  it  is  our  right 

—  and  you  men  are  dolts  not  to  give  it  us.  But  I  sit 
and  wait  peaceably  till  you  do  —  till  the  apple  Is  ripe 
and  drops.  And  meanwhile  these  wild  women  prevent 
its  ripening  at  all.  So  long  as  the}'  rage,  there  it 
hangs  —  out  of  our  reach.  So  that  I'm  not  only 
ashamed  of  them  as  a  woman  —  but  out  of  all  patience 
with  them  as  a  Suffragist!  However  for  heaven's 
sake  don't  let's  discuss  the  horrid  subject.  I'll  do 
all  I  can  for  Delia  —  both  for  your  sake  and  Bob's  — 
I'll  keep  m}'  best  eye  on  the  Fury  —  I  feel  myself  of 
course  most  abominably  responsible  for  her  —  and 
I  hope  for  the  best.  Who's  coming  to  your  tea- 
party?" 

Winnington    enumerated.     At    the    name    of    Susy 


io6  Delia  Blanchflower 

Amberley,  his  hostess  threw  hmi  a  sudden  look,  but 
said  nothing. 

"  The  Andrews' —  Captain,  Mrs.  and  Miss  — ," 

Lady  Tonbridge  exclaimed. 

"  Why  did  you  ask  that  horrid  woman?  " 

"  We  didn't !  Alice  indiscreetly  mentioned  that 
Miss  Blanchflower  was  coming  to  tea,  and  she  asked 
herself." 

"  She's  enough  to  make  any  one  militant !  If  I 
hear  her  quote  '  the  hand  that  rocks  the  cradle  rules 
the  world  '  once  more,  I  shall  have  to  smite  her.  The 
girl's  down-trodden,  I  tell  you !  Well,  well  —  if  you 
gossip  too  little,  I  gossip  too  much.  Heavens !  — 
what  a  light !  " 

Winnington  turned  to  see  the  glow  of  a  lovely  after^ 
noon  fusing  all  the  hill-side  in  a  glory  of  gold  and  ame- 
thyst, and  the  windows  in  the  long  front  of  Monk 
Lawrence  taking  fire  under  the  last  rays  of  a  fast- 
dropping  sun. 

"  Do  you  know  —  I  sometimes  feel  anxious  about 
that  house ! "  said  Madeleine  Tonbridge,  abruptly. 
"  It's  empty  —  it's  famous  —  it  belongs  to  a  member 
of  the  Government.  What  is  to  prevent  the  women 
from  attacking  it  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  it  isn't  empty.  The  Keeper, 
Daunt,  from  the  South  Lodge,  has  now  moved  into  the 
house.  I  know,  because  Susy  Amberley  told  me.  She 
goes  up  there  to  teach  one  of  my  cripples  —  Daunt's 
second  girl.  In  the  next,  the  police  are  on  the  alert. 
And  last  —  who  on  earth  would  dare  to  attack  Monk 
Lawrence?  The  odium  of  it  would  be  too  great.  A 
house  bound  up  with  English  history  and  English  poetry 
—  No !     They  are  not  such  fools !  " 

Lady  Tonbridge  shook  her  head. 


Delia  Blanchflower  107 

"  Don't  be  so  sure.  Anyway  3^ou  as  a  magistrate  can 
keep  the  police  up  to  the  mark." 

Winnington  departed,  and  his  old  friend  was  left 
to  meditate  on  his  predicament.  It  was  strange  to  see 
Mark  Winnington,  with  his  traditional,  English  ways 
and  feelings  —  carried,  as  she  always  felt,  to  their  high- 
est —  thus  face  to  face  with  the  new  feminist  forces  — 
as  embodied  in  Delia  Blanchflower.  He  had  resented, 
clearly  resented,  the  introduction  —  by  her,  Madeleine 
—  of  the  sex  element  into  the  problem.  But  how  diffi- 
cult to  keep  it  out !  "  He  will  see  her  constantly  —  he 
will  have  to  exercise  his  will  against  hers  —  he  will  get 
his  way  —  and  then  hate  himself  for  conquering  —  he 
will  disapprove,  and  yet  admire, —  will  offend  her,  yet 
want  to  please  her  —  a  creature  all  fire,  and  beauty,  and 
heroisms  out  of  place !  And  she  —  could  she,  could  I, 
could  any  woman  I  know,  fight  Mark  Winnington  — 
and  not  love  him  all  the  time  ?  Men  are  men,  and  women 
are  women  —  in  spite  of  all  these  '  isms,'  and  '  causes.' 

I  bet  —  but  I  don't  know  what  I  bet ! "     Then  her 

thoughts  gradually  veered  away  from  Mark  to  quite  an- 
otlicr  person. 

How  would  Susan  Amberley  be  affected  by  this  new 
interest  in  Mark  Winnington's  life.'*  Madeleine's 
thoughts  recalled  a  gentle  face,  a  pair  of  honest  eyes, 
a  bearing  timid  and  yet  dignified.  So  she  was  teaching 
one  of  Mark's  crippled  children.''  And  Mark  thought 
no  doubt  she  would  have  done  the  like  for  anyone  else 
with  a  charitable  hobby.?  Perhaps  she  would,  for  her 
heart  was  a  fount  of  pity.  All  the  same,  the  man  — 
blind  bat!  —  understood  nothing.  No  fault  of  his  per- 
haps ;  but  Lady  Tonbridge  felt  a  woman's  angry  sym- 
pathy with  a  form  of  waste  so  common  and  so  costly. 


io8  Delia  Blanchflower 

And  now  the  modest  worshipper  must  see  her  hero 
absorbed  day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour,  in  the  doings 
of  a  dazzhng  and  magnificent  creature  hke  DcHa 
Blanchflower.  Wliat  food  for  torment,  even  in  the 
meekest  spirit ! 

So  that  the  last  word  the  vivacious  woman  said  to 
herself  was  a  soft  "  Poor  Susy !  "  dropped  into  the 
heart  of  a  September  rose  as  she  stooped  to  gather  it. 


Chapter  VII 

A  SMALL  expectant  party  were  gathered  for  after- 
noon tea  in  the  book-lined  sitting-room  —  the  house 
possessed  no  proper  drawing-room  —  of  Bridge  End. 
Mrs.  Matheson  indeed,  Mark's  widowed  sister,  would 
have  resented  it  had  anyone  used  the  word  "  party  "  in 
its  social  sense.  Miss  Blanchflower's  father  had  been 
dead  scarcely  a  month ;  and  Mrs.  Matheson  in  her  quiet 
way,  held  strongly  by  all  the  decencies  of  life.  It  was 
merely  a  small  gathering  of  some  of  the  oldest  friends  and 
neighbours  of  Miss  Blanchflower's  family  —  those  who 
had  stood  nearest  to  her  grandparents  —  to  welcome 
the  orphan  girl  among  them.  Lady  Tonbridge  —  of 
whom  it  was  commonly  believed,  though  no  one  ex- 
actly knew  why,  that  Bob  Blanchflower,  as  a  youth 
had  been  in  love  with  her,  before  ever  he  met  his  Greek 
wife;  Dr.  France,  who  had  attended  both  the  old  peo- 
ple till  their  deaths,  and  had  been  much  beloved  by 
them;  his  wife;  the  Rector,  Mrs.  Amberley,  and  Susy: 
—  Mrs.  Matheson  had  not  intended  to  ask  anyone  else. 
But  the  Andrews'  had  asked  themselves,  and  she  had 
not  had  the  moral  courage  to  tell  them  that  the  occa- 
sion was  not  for  them.  She  was  always  getting  Mark 
into  difficulties,  she  penitently  reflected,  by  her  inability 
to  say  No,  at  the  right  time,  and  with  the  proper  force, 
INIark  could  always  say  it,  and  stick  to  it  smiling  — 
without  giving  off'encc. 

Mrs.  Matheson  was  at  the  tea-table.      She  was  tall 
and  thin,  with  something  of  her  brother's  good  looks, 

109 


110  Delia  Blanchflower 

but  none  of  his  over-flowing  vitality.  Her  iron-grey 
hair  was  rolled  back  from  her  forehead;  she  wore  a 
black  dress  with  a  high  collar  of  white  lawn,  and  long 
white  cuffs.  Little  Mrs.  Amberley,  the  Rector's  wife, 
sitting  beside  her,  envied  her  hostess  her  figure,  and 
her  long  slender  neck.  She  herself  had  long  since 
parted  with  any  semblance  of  a  waist,  and  the  boned 
collars  of  the  day  were  a  perpetual  torment  to  one  whose 
neck,  from  the  dressmaker's  point  of  view,  scarcely  ex- 
isted. But  Mrs.  Amberley  endured  them,  because  they 
were  the  fashion;  and  to  be  moderately  in  the  fashion 
meant  simply  keeping  up  to  the  mark  —  not  falling 
behind.  It  was  like  going  to  church  —  an  acceptance 
of  that  "  general  will,"  which  according  to  the  philoso- 
phers, is   the  guardian   of  all   religion   and   all  moral- 

ity. 

The  Rector  too,  who  was  now  handing  the  tea-cake, 
believed  in  fashion  —  ecclesiastical  fashion.  Like  his 
wife,  he  was  gentle  and  ineffective.  His  clerical  dress 
expressed  a  moderate  Anglicanism,  and  his  opinions 
were  those  of  his  class  and  neighbourhood,  put  for  him 
day  by  day  in  his  favourite  newspaper,  with  a  cogency 
at  which  he  marvelled.  Yet  he  was  no  more  a  hypo- 
crite than  his  wife,  and  below  his  common-places  both 
of  manner  and  thought  there  lay  wann  feelings  and  a 
quick  conscience.  He  was  just  now  much  troubled 
about  his  daughter  Susy.  The  night  before  she  had 
told  her  mother  and  him  that  she  wished  to  go  to  Lon- 
don, to  train  for  nursing.  It  had  been  an  upheaval 
in  their  quiet  household.  Why  should  she  dream  of 
such  a  thing.''  How  could  they  ever  get  on  without 
her?  Who  would  copy  out  his  sermons,  or  help  with 
the  schools?  And  her  mother  —  so  dependent  on  her 
only    daughter!     The    Rector's    mind    was    much    dis- 


Delia  Blanchflower  ill 

turbed,  and  he  was  accordingly  more  absent  and  more 
ineffective  than  usual. 

Susy  herself,  in  a  white  frock,  with  touches  of  blue 
at  her  waist,  and  in  her  shady  hat,  was  moving  about 
with  cups  of  tea,  taking  that  place  of  Mrs.  Matthews's 
lieutenant,  wliich  was  always  tacitly  given  her  by  Win- 
nington  and  his  sister  on  festal  occasions  at  Bridge 
End.  As  she  passed  Winnington,  who  had  been  cap- 
tured by  Mrs.  Andrews,  he  turned  with  alacrity  — 

"  My  dear  Miss  Susy!  What  are  you  doing.?  Give 
me  that  cup !  " 

"No  —  please!  I  like  doing  it!"  And  she  passed 
on,  smiling,  towards  Lady  Tonbridge,  whose  shai-p  eyes 
had  seen  the  trivial  contact  between  Winnington  and 
the  girl.  How  the  mere  sound  of  his  voice  had  changed 
the  aspect  of  the  young  face !  Poor  child  —  poor 
child ! 

"  How  well  you  look  Susy !  Such  a  pretty  dress  !  " 
said  Madeleine  tenderly  in  the  girl's  ear. 

Susy  flushed. 

"You  really  think  so?  Mother  gave  it  me  for  a 
birthday  present."  She  looked  up  with  her  soft,  brown 
eyes,  wliich  always  seemed  to  have  in  them,  even  when 
they  smiled,  a  look  of  pleading  —  as  of  someone  at  a 
disadvantage.  At  the  same  moment  Winnington  passed 
her. 

"  Could  you  go  and  talk  to  Miss  Andrews?  "  he  said, 
over  his  shoulder,  so  that  only  she  heard. 

Susy  went  obediently  across  the  room  to  where  a 
silent,  dark-haired  girl  sat  by  herself,  quite  apart  from 
the  rest  of  the  circle.  Marion  Andrews  was  plain,  with 
large  features  and  thick  wiry  hair.  Maumsey  society 
in  general  declared  her  "  impossible."  She  rarely 
talked ;  she  seemed  to  have  no  tastes ;  and  the  world  be- 


112  Delia  Blanchflower 

lieved  her  both  stupid  and  disagreeable.  And  by  con- 
trast with  the  effusive  amiabiHties  of  her  mother,  she 
could  appear  nothing  else.  Mrs.  Andrews  indeed  had 
a  way  of  using  her  daughter  as  a  foil  to  her  own  quali- 
ties, which  must  have  paralysed  the  most  self-confident, 
and  Marion  had  never  possessed  any  belief  in  herself  at 
all. 

As  Susy  Amberley  timidly  approached  her,  and  be- 
gan to  make  conversation,  she  looked  up  coldly,  and 
hardly  answered.  Meanwhile  Mrs.  Andrews  was  pour- 
ing out  a  flood  of  talk  under  which  the  uncomfortable 
Winnington  —  for  it  always  fell  to  him  as  host  to  en- 
tertain her  —  sat  practising  endurance.  She  was  a 
selfish,  egotistical  woman,  with  a  vast  command  of 
sloppy  phrases,  which  did  duty  for  all  that  real  feeling 
or  sympathy  of  which  she  possessed  uncommonly  little. 
On  this  occasion  she  was  elaborately  dressed, —  over- 
dressed —  in  a  black  satin  gown,  which  seemed  to  Win- 
nington, an  ugly  miracle  of  trimming  and  tortured 
"  bits."  Her  large  hat  was  thick  with  nodding  plumes, 
and  beside  her  spotless  white  gloves  and  showy  lace 
scarf,  her  daughter's  slovenly  coat  and  skirt,  of  the 
cheapest  ready-made  kind,  her  soiled  gloves,  and  clumsy 
shoes,  struck  even  a  man  uncomfortably.  That  poor 
girl  seemed  to  grow  plainer  and  more  silent  every  year. 

He  was  just  shaking  himself  free  from  the  mother, 
when  Dr.  and  Mrs.  France  were  announced.  The  doc- 
tor came  in  with  a  furrowed  brow,  and  a  preoccupied 
look.  After  greeting  Mrs.  Matheson,  and  the  other 
guests,  he  caught  a  glance  of  enquiry  from  Winnington 
and  went  up  to  him. 

"  The  evening  paper  is  full  of  the  most  shocking 
news !  "  he  said,  with  evident  agitation.  "  There  has 
been  an  attempt  on  Hampton  Court  —  and  two  girls 


Delia  Blanchflower  113 

who  were  caught  breaking  windows  in  Piccadilly  have 
been  badly  hurt  by  the  crowd.  A  bomb  too  has  been 
found  in  the  entrance  of  one  of  the  tube  stations.  It 
was  discovered  in  time,  or  the  results  might  have  been 
frightful." 

"  Good  Heavens  —  those  women  again !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Andrews,  lifting  hands  and  eyes. 

No  one  else  spoke.  But  in  everyone's  mind  the  same 
thought  emerged.  At  any  moment  the  door  might  open, 
and  Delia  Blanchflower  and  her  chaperon  might  come  in. 

The  doctor  drew  Winnington  aside  into  a  bow-win- 
dow. 

"  Did  you  know  that  the  lady  living  with  Miss  Blanch- 
flower was  a  member  of  this  League  of  Revolt?  " 

"  Yes.  You  mean  they  are  implicated  in  these 
things?" 

"  Certainly !  I  am  told  Miss  Marvell  was  once  an 
official  —  probably  is  still.  My  dear  Winnington  — 
you  can't  possibly  allow  it !  "  He  spoke  with  the  free- 
dom of  an  intimate  friend. 

"  How  can  I  stop  it,"  said  Winnington,  frowning. 
"  My  ward  is  of  age.  If  Miss  Marvell  does  anything 
overt  —  But  she  has  promised  to  do  nothing  violent 
down  here  —  they  both  have." 

The  doctor,  an  impetuous  Ulsterman  with  white  hair, 
and  black  eyes,  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently. 
"  When  women  once  take  to  this  kind  of  thing  " — 
he  was  interrupted  b}'  Mrs.  Andrews'  heavy  voice  rising 
above  the  rather  nervous  and  disjointed  conversation  of 
the  other  guests  — "  If  women  only  knew  where  their 
real  power  lies,  Mrs.  IVIatheson !  Why,  '  the  hand  that 
rocks  the  cradle  ' " 

A  sudden  crash  .was  heard. 

"  Oh,  dear  " —  cried  Lady  Tonbridge,  who  had  upset 


114  Delia  Blanchflower 

a  small  table  with  a  plate  of  cakes  on  it  across  the  tail 
of  Mrs.  Andrews'  dress  — "  how  stupid  I  am !  " 

"  My  gown !  —  my  gown !  "  cried  Mrs.  Andrews  in 
an  anguish,  groping  for  the  cakes. 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  the  drawing-room  door 
had  opened,  and  there  on  the  threshold  stood  Delia 
Blanchflower,  with  a  slightly-built  lady  behind  her. 

Winnington  turned  with  a  start  and  went  forward 
to  greet  them.  Dr.  France  left  behind  in  the  bow-win- 
dow observed  their  entry  with  a  mingling  of  curiosity 
and  repulsion.  It  seemed  to  him  that  their  entry  was 
that  of  persons  into  a  hostile  camp, —  the  senses  all  alert 
against  attack.  Delia  was  of  course  in  black,  her  face 
sombrely  brilliant  in  its  dark  setting  of  a  plain  felt  hat, 
like  the  hat  of  a  Cavalier  Avithout  its  feathers.  "  She 
knows  perfectly  well  we  have  been  talking  about  her !  " 
thought  Dr.  France, — "  that  we  have  seen  the  news- 
papers. She  comes  in  ready  for  battle  —  perhaps 
thirsty  for  it !  She  is  excited  —  while  the  woman  be- 
hind her  is  perfectly  cool.  The  two  types  !  —  the  en- 
thusiast —  and  the  fanatic.  But,  by  Jove,  the  girl  is 
handsome !  " 

Through  the  sudden  silence  created  by  their  entry, 
Delia  made  her  way  to  Mrs.  Matheson.  Holding  her 
head  very  high,  she  introduced  "  My  chaperon  —  Miss 
Marvell."  And  Winnington's  sister  nervously  shook 
hands  with  the  quietly  smiling  lady  who  followed  in  Miss 
Blanchflower's  wake.  Then  while  Delia  sat  down  be- 
side the  hostess,  and  Winnington  busied  himself  in  sup- 
plying her  with  tea,  her  companion  fell  to  the  Rector's 
care. 

The  Rector,  like  Winnington,  was  not  a  gossip,  partly 
out  of  scruples,  but  mainly  perhaps  because  of  a  cer- 
tain deficient  vitality,  and  he  had  but  disjointed  ideas 


Delia  Blanchflower  ii^ 

on  the  subject  of  the  two  ladies  who  had  now  settled 
at  the  Abbey.  He  understood,  however,  that  Delia, 
whom  he  remembered  as  a  child,  was  a  "  Suffragette," 
and  that  Mr.  Winnington,  Delia's  guardian,  disap- 
proved of  the  lady  she  had  brought  with  her,  why,  he 
could  not  recollect.  This  vague  sense  of  something 
"  naughty "  and  abnormal  gave  a  certain  tremor  to 
his  manner  as  he  stood  beside  Gertrude  Marvell,  shift- 
ing from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and  nervously  plying  her 
with  tea-cake. 

Miss  Marvell's  dark  eyes  meanwhile  glanced  round 
the  room,  taking  in  everybody.  They  paused  a  mo- 
ment on  the  figure  of  the  doctor,  erect  and  spare  in  a 
closely-buttoned  coat,  on  his  spectacled  face,  and  con- 
spicuous brow,  under  waves  of  nearly  white  hair;  then 
passed  on.  Dr.  France  watched  her,  following  the  ex- 
amining eyes  with  his  own.  He  saw  them  change,  with 
a  look  —  the  slightest  passing  look  —  of  recognition, 
and  at  the  same  moment  he  was  aware  of  Marion  An- 
drews, sitting  in  the  light  of  a  side  window.  What  had 
happened  to  the  girl?  He  saw  her  dark  face,  for  one 
instant,  exultant,  transformed;  like  some  forest  hollow 
into  which  a  sunbeam  strikes.  The  next,  she  was  stoop- 
ing over  a  copy  of  "  Punch  "  which  lay  on  the  table  be- 
side her.  A  rush  of  speculation  ran  through  the  doc- 
tor's mind. 

"  And  you  are  settled  at  Maumsey?  "  Mrs.  Matheson 
was  saying  to  Delia ;  aware  as  soon  as  the  question  was 
uttered  that  it  was  a  foolish  one. 

"  Oh  no,  not  settled.  We  shall  be  there  a  couple  of 
months." 

"  The  house  will  want  some  doing  up,  Mark  thinks." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  Not  much  anyway.  It  does 
very  well." 


ii6  Delia  Blanchflower 

There  was  an  entire  absence  of  girlish  softness  or  shy- 
ness in  the  speaker's  manner,  though  it  was  both  courte- 
ous and  easy.  The  voice  —  musically  deep  —  and  the 
splendid  black  eyes,  that  looked  so  steadily  at  her,  in- 
timidated Mark  Winnington's  gentle  sister. 

Mrs.  Andrews,  whose  dress,  after  Susy's  ministra- 
tion, had  been  declared  out  of  danger,  bent  across  the 
tea-table,  all  smiles  and  benevolence  again,  the  plumes 
in  her  black  hat  nodding  — 

"  It's  like  old  times  to  have  the  Abbey  open  again. 
Miss  Blanchflower !  Every  week  we  used  to  go  to  your 
dear  grandmother,  for  her  Tuesday  work-party.  I'm 
afraid  you'll  hardly  revive  tJiat!  " 

Delia  brought  a  rather  intimidating  brow  to  bear 
upon  the  speaker. 

"  I'm  afraid  not." 

Lady  Tonbridge,  who  had  already  greeted  Delia  as 
a  woman  naturally  greets  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend, 
came  up  as  Delia  spoke  to  ask  for  a  second  cup  of  tea, 
and  laid  her  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder. 

"  Very  sorry  to  miss  3^ou  yesterday.  I  won't  insult 
you  by  saying  you've  grown.  How  about  the  singing? 
You  used  to  sing  I  remember  when  I  stayed  with  you." 

"  Yes  —  but  I've  given  it  up.  I  took  lessons  at 
Munich  last  spring.  But  I  can't  work  at  it  enough. 
And  if  one  can't  work,  it's  no  good." 

"  Why  can't  you  work  at  it?  " 

Delia  suddenly  looked  up  in  her  questioner's  face. 
Her  gravity  broke  up  in  a  broad  smile. 

"  Because  there's  so  much  else  to  do." 

"What  else?" 

The  look  of  excited  defiance  in  the  girl's  eyes  sharp- 
ened. 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  know?  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  117 

"  Certainly.  The  Suffrage  and  that  kind  of  thing?  " 
said  Madeleine  Tonbridge  lightly. 

"  The  Suffrage  and  that  kind  of  thing !  "  repeated 
Delia,  still  smiling. 

Captain  Andrews  who  was  standing  near,  and  whose 
martial  mind  was  all  in  confusion,  owing  to  Miss  Blanch- 
flower's  beauty,  put  in  an  eager  word. 

"  I  never  can  understand,  Miss  Blanchflower,  why 
you  ladies  want  the  vote !  Why,  you  can  twist  us  round 
your  little  fingers !  " 

Delia  turned  upon  him. 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  twist  you  round  my  little 
finger ! "  she  said,  with  energy.  "  It  wouldn't  give  me 
the  smallest  pleasure." 

"  I  thought  you  wanted  to  manage  us,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain, unable  to  take  his  eyes  from  her.  "  But  you  do 
manage  us  already !  " 

Delia's  glance  showed  her  uncertain  whether  the  foe 
was  worth  her  steel. 

"  We  want  to  manage  ourselves,"  she  said  at  last, 
smiling  indifferently.     "  We  say  you  do  it  badly." 

The  Captain  attempted  to  spar  with  her  a  little 
longer.  Winnington  meanwhile  stood,  a  silent  listener, 
amid  the  group  round  the  tea-table.  He  —  and  Dr. 
France  —  were  both  acutely  conscious  of  the  realities 
behind  this  empty  talk;  of  the  facts  recorded  in  the 
day's  newspapers ;  and  of  the  connection  between  the 
quiet  lady  in  grey  who  had  come  in  with  Delia  Blanch- 
flower, and  the  campaign  of  public  violence,  which  was 
now  in  good  earnest  alarming  and  exasperating  the 
country. 

Where  was  the  quiet  lady  in  grey?  Winnington  was 
thinking  too  much  about  his  ward  to  keep  a  constant 


ii8  Delia  Blanchflower 

eye  upon  her.  But  Dr.  France  observed  her  closely, 
and  he  presently  saw  what  puzzled  him  anew.  After 
a  conversation,  exceedingly  bland,  though  rather  mono- 
syllabic, on  Miss  Marvell's  part,  with  the  puzzled  and 
inarticulate  Rector,  Delia's  chaperon  had  gently  and 
imperceptibly  moved  away  from  the  tea-table.  That 
she  had  been  very  coldly  received  by  the  company  in  gen- 
eral was  no  doubt  evident  to  her.  She  was  now  sitting 
beside  that  strange  girl  Marion  Andrews  —  to  whom, 
as  the  Doctor  had  seen,  she  had  been  introduced  —  ap- 
parently —  by  the  Rector.  And  as  Dr.  France  caught 
sight  of  her,  she  and  Marion  Andrews  rose  and  walked 
to  a  window  opening  on  the  garden,  apparently  to  look 
at  the  blaze  of  autumn  flowers  outside. 

But  it  was  the  demeanour  of  the  girl  which  again  drew 
the  doctor's  attention.  Marion  Andrews,  who  never 
talked,  was  talking  fast  and  earnestly  to  this  complete 
stranger,  her  normally  sallow  face  one  glow.  It  was 
borne  in  afresh  upon  Dr.  France  that  the  two  were  al- 
ready acquainted;  and  he  continued  to  watch  them  as 
closely   as  politeness  allowed. 

"Will  you  come  and  look  at  the  house.''"  said  Win- 
nington  to  his  ward.  "  Not  that  we  have  anything  to 
shew  —  except  a  few  portraits  and  old  engravings  that 
might  interest  you.  But  it's  rather  a  dear  old  place, 
and  we're  very  fond  of  it." 

Delia  went  with  him  in  silence.  He  opened  the  oval 
panelled  dining-room,  and  shewed  her  the  portraits  of 
his  father,  the  venerable  head  of  an  Oxford  college,  in 
the  scarlet  robes  of  a  D.D.,  and  others  representing  his 
forebears  on  both  sides  —  quiet  folk,  painted  by  decent 
but  not  important  painters.  Delia  looked  at  them  and 
hardly   spoke.     Then  they  went  into  Mrs.  Matheson's 


Delia  Blanchflower  119 

room,  which  was  bright  with  pretty  chintzes,  books  and 
water-colours,  and  had  a  bow-window  looking  on  the 
garden.  Still  Delia  said  nothing,  beyond  an  absent 
Yes  or  No,  or  a  perfunctory  word  of  praise.  Winning- 
ton  became  ver}^  soon  conscious  of  some  strong  tension 
in  her,  which  was  threatening  to  break  down ;  a  tension 
evidently  of  displeasure  and  resentment.  He  guessed 
what  the  subject  of  it  might  be,  but  as  he  was  most 
unwilling  to  discuss  it  with  her,  if  his  guess  were  correct, 
he  tried  to  soothe  and  evade  her  by  such  pleasant  talk 
as  the  different  rooms  suggested.  The  house  through 
which  he  led  her  was  the  home,  evidently,  of  a  man  full 
of  enthusiasms  and  affections,  caring  intensely  for  many 
things,  for  his  old  school,  of  which  there  were  many 
drawings  and  photographs  in  the  hall  and  passages, 
for  the  two  great  games  in  which  he  himself  excelled ; 
for  poetry  and  literature  —  the  house  overflowed  every- 
where with  books ;  for  his  County  Council  work,  and  all 
the  projects  connected  with  it;  for  his  famih^  and  his 
intimate  friends. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  asked  Delia,  pointing  to  a  charcoal 
drawing  in  ]\Irs.  Matheson's  sitting-room,  of  a  noble- 
faced  Avoman  of  thirty,  in  a  delicate  evening  dress  of 
black  and  white. 

"  That  is  my  mother.  She  died  the  year  after  it 
was  taken." 

Delia  looked  at  it  in  silence  a  moment.  There  was 
something  in  its  dignity,  its  restfulncss,  its  touch  of 
austerity  which  challenged  her.      She  said  abruptly  — 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  please,  Mr.  Winnington. 
May  we  shut  the  door?" 

Winnington  shut  the  door  of  his  sister's  room,  and 
returned  to  his  guest.     Delia  had  turned  vei'y  white. 

"  I  hear  Mr.  Winnington  you  have  reversed  an  order 


120  Delia  Blanchflower 

I  wrote  to  our  agent  about  one  of  the  cottages.  May  I 
know  your  reasons  ?  " 

"  I  was  very  sorry  to  do  so,"  said  WInnington  gently ; 
"  but  I  felt  sure  you  did  not  understand  the  real  cir- 
cumstances, and  I  could  not  come  and  discuss  them  with 
you." 

Delia  stood  stormily  erect,  and  the  level  light  of  the 
October  afternoon  streaming  in  through  a  west  window 
magnified  her  height,  and  her  prophetess  air. 

"  I  can't  help  shocking  3'ou,  Mr.  Winnington.  I  don't 
accept  what  you  say.  I  don't  believe  that  covering  up 
horrible  things  makes  them  less  horrible.  I  want  to 
stand  by  that  girl.  It  is  cruel  to  separate  her  from  her 
old  father !  " 

Winnington  looked  at  her  in  distress  and  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  The  story  is  not  what  you  think  it,"  he  said  ear- 
nestly. "  But  it  is  really  not  fit  for  your  ears.  I  have 
given  great  thought  and  much  time  to  it,  yesterday  and 
to-day.  The  girl  —  who  is  mentally  deficient  —  will 
be  sent  to  a  home  and  cared  for.  The  father  sees  now 
that  it  is  the  best.     Please  trust  it  to  me." 

"  Why  mayn't  I  know  the  facts !  "  persisted  Delia, 
paler  than  before. 

"  A  flash  of  some  quick  feeling  passed  through  Win- 
nington's  eyes. 

"  Why  should  you  ?  Leave  us  older  folk,  dear  Miss 
Delia,  to  deal  with  these  sorrowful  things." 

Indignation  blazed  up  in  her. 

"  It  is  for  women  to  help  women,"  she  said,  passion- 
ately. "  It  is  no  good  treating  us  who  are  grown  up  — 
even  if  we  are  young  —  like  children  any  more.  We 
intend  to  know  —  that  we  may  protect  —  and  save." 

"  I  assure  you,"  said  Winnington  gravely,  "  that  this 


Delia  Blanchflower  121 

poor  girl  shall  have  every  care  —  every  kindness.  So 
there  is  really  no  need  for  you  to  know.  Please  spare 
yourself  —  and  me !  " 

He  had  come  to  stand  by  her,  looking  down  upon 
her.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  unwillingly,  and  as  she 
caught  his  smile  she  was  invaded  by  a  sudden  conscious- 
ness of  his  strong  magnetic  presence.  The  power  in 
the  grey  eyes,  and  in  the  brow  over-hanging  them,  the 
kind  sincerity  mingled  with  the  power,  and  the  friend- 
liness that  breathed  from  his  whole  attitude  and  ex- 
pression, disarmed  her.  She  felt  herself  for  a  moment 
—  and  for  the  first  time  —  young  and  ignorant, —  and 
that  Winnington  was  ready  to  be  in  the  true  and  not 
merely  in  the  legal  sense,  her  "  guardian,"  if  she  would 
only  let  him. 

But  the  moment  of  weakening  was  soon  over.  Her 
mind  chafed  and  twisted.  Why  had  he  undertaken 
it  —  a  complete  stranger  to  her !  It  was  most  em- 
barrassing —  detestable  —  for    them    both  ! 

And  there  suddenly  darted  through  her  memory  the 
recollection  of  a  certain  item  in  her  father's  will.  Un- 
der it  Mr.  Winnington  received  a  sum  of  £4',000  out  of 
her  father's  estate,  "  in  consideration  of  our  old  friend- 
ship, and  of  the  trouble  I  am  asking  him  to  undertake 
in  connection  with  my  estates," —  or  words  to  that  ef- 
fect. 

Somehow,  she  had  never  yet  paid  much  attention  to 
that  clause  in  the  will.  It  occurred  in  a  list  of  a  good 
many  other  legacies,  and  had  been  passed  over  by  the 
lawyers  in  explaining  the  will  to  her,  as  something  en- 
tirely in  the  natural  course  of  things.  But  the  poison- 
ous thought  suggested  itself  — "  It  was  that  which 
bribed  him  !  —  he  would  have  given  it  up,  but  for  that !  " 
He  might  not  want  it  for  himself  —  very  possibly  !  — - 


122  Delia  Blanchflower 

but  for  his  charities,  his  Cripple  School  and  the  rest. 
Her  face  stiffened. 

"  If  you  have  arranged  with  her  father,  of  course  I 
can't  interfere,"  she  said  coldly.  "  But  don't  imagine, 
please,  Mr.  Winnington,  for  one  moment,  that  I  accept 
your  view  of  the  things  I  '  needn't  know.'  If  I  am 
to  do  my  duty  to  the  people  on  this  estate " 

"  I  thought  you  weren't  going  to  live  on  the  estate.''  " 
he  said,  lifting  his  eyebrows. 

"  Not  at  once  —  not  this  winter."  She  was  annoyed 
to  feel  herself  stammering.  "  But  of  course  I  have  a 
responsibility " 

The  kindly  laugh  in  his  grey  eyes  faded. 

"  Yes  —  I  quite  admit  that, —  a  great  responsibility," 
he  said  slowly.  "  Do  you  mind  if  I  mention  another 
sub j  ect  ?  " 

"  The  meetings .''  "  she  said,  quickly.  "  You  mean 
that.?  " 

"Yes  —  the  meetings.  I  have  just  seen  the  placard 
in  the  village." 

"Well.?"  Her  loveliness  in  defiance  dazzled  him, 
but  he  held  on  stoutly. 

"  You  said  nothing  to  me  about  these  meetings  the 
other  day." 

"  You  never  asked  me !  " 

He  paused  a  moment. 

"  No  —  but  was  it  quite  —  quite  fair  to  me  —  to  let 
me  suppose  that  the  drawing-room  meeting  at  Maum- 
sey,  which  you  kindly  gave  up,  was  the  only  meeting  you 
had  in  view.?  " 

He  saw  her  breath  fluttering. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  supposed,  Mr.  Winnington ! 
I  said  nothing." 

"  No.     But  you  let  me  draw  an  inference  —  a  mis- 


Delia  Blanchflower  123 

taken  inference.  However  —  let  that  be.  Can  I  not 
persuade  you  —  now  —  to  give  up  the  Latchford  meet- 
ing, and  any  others  of  the  same  kind  you  may  have 
ahead?  " 

She  flamed  at  him. 

"  I  refuse  to  give  them  up !  "  she  said,  setting  her 
teeth.  "  I  have  as  much  right  to  my  views  as  you,  Mr. 
Winnington  1  I  am  of  full  age,  and  I  intend  to  work  for 
them." 

"  Setting  fire  to  houses  —  which  is  what  your  society  is 
advocating  —  and  doing  —  hardly  counts  as  '  views,'  " 
he  said,  with  sudden  sternness.  "  Risking  the  lives,  or 
spoiling  the  property  of  one's  fellow  countrymen,  is  not 
the  same  thing  as  political  argument." 

"  It's  our  argument  — "  she  said  passionately. — 
"  The  men  who  are  denying  us  the  vote  understand  noth- 
ing else ! " 

The  slightest  humorous  quiver  in  Winnington's  strong 
mouth  enraged  her  still  further.  But  he  spoke  with 
most  courteous  gravity. 

"  Then  I  can't  persuade  you  to  give  up  these  meet- 
ings? I  should  of  course  make  no  objection  whatever, 
if  these  were  ordinary  Suffrage  meetings.  But  the 
Society  you  are  going  to  represent  and  collect  money 
for  is  a  Society  that  exists  to  break  the  law.  And 
its  members  have  —  just  lately  —  come  conspicuously 
into  collision  with  the  law.  Your  father  would  have 
protested,  and  I  am  bound  to  protest  —  in  his 
name." 

"  I  cannot  give  them  up." 

He  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  If  that  is  so  " —  he  said  at  last  — "  I  must  do  my 
best  to  protect  you." 

"  I  don't  want  any  protection !  " 


124  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  I  am  a  magistrate,  as  well  as  your  guardian.  You 
must  allow  me  to  judge.  There  is  a  very  bitter  feeling 
abroad,  after  these  —  outrages  —  of  the  last  fer/  days. 
The  village  where  you  are  going  to  speak  has  some  rowdy 
elements  —  drawn  from  the  brickfields  near  it.  You 
will  certainly  want  protection.  I  shall  see  that  you  get 
it." 

He  spoke  with  decision.     Delia  bit  her  lip. 

"  We  prefer  to  risk  our  lives,"  she  said  at  last.  "  I 
mean  —  there  isn't  any  risk !  —  but  if  there  were  —  our 
lives  are  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  cause !  " 

"  You  won't  expect  your  friends  to  agree  with  you," 
he  said  drily ;  then,  still  holding  her  with  an  even  keener 
look,  he  added  — 

"  And  there  is  another  point  in  connection  with  these 
meetings  which  distresses  me.  I  see  that  you  are  speak- 
ing on  the  same  platform  —  with  Mr.  Paul  Lathrop  — " 

"  And  why  not  ?  " —  she  flashed,  the  colour  rushing  to 
her  cheeks. 

He  paused,  walked  away  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  came  back  again. 

"  I  have  been  making  some  enquiries  about  him.  He 
is  not  a  man  with  whom  you  ought  to  associate  —  either 
in  public,  or  in  private." 

She  gave  a  sound  —  half  scorn  —  half  indignation 
which  startled  him. 

"  You  mean  —  because  of  the  divorce  case.'*  " 

He  looked  at  her  amazed. 

"  That  is  what  I  meant.  But  —  I  certainly  do  not 
wish  to  discuss  it  with  you.  Will  you  not  take  it  from 
me  that  Mr.  Lathrop  is  not  —  cannot  be  —  a  man  whom 
as  a  young  unmarried  Avoman  you  ought  to  receive  in 
your  house  —  or  with  Avhcm  you  should  be  seen  in  pub- 
lic." 


Delia  Blanchflower  12^ 

"  No,  indeed  I  won't  take  it  from  you ! "  she  said  pas- 
sionately. "  Miss  Marvell  knows  —  Miss  Marvell  told 
me.  He  ran  awa3'  with  some  one  he  loved.  Her  hus- 
band was  "uile!  But  she  couldn't  get  any  help  —  be- 
cause of  the  law  —  the  abominable  law  —  which  punishes 
women  —  and  lets  men  go  free.  So  they  went  away 
together,  and  after  a  little  she  died.  Alter  your  law, 
Mr.  Winnington!  —  make  it  equal  for  men  and  women 

—  and  then  we'll  talk." 

As  she  spoke  —  childishlj^,  defiant  —  Winnington's 
mind  was  filled  with  a  confusion  of  clashing  thoughts 

—  the  ideals  of  his  own  first  youth  w^hich  made  such  a 
speech  in  the  mouth  of  a  girl  of  twenty-one  almost  in- 
tolerable to  him  —  and  the  moral  conditions  —  slowly 
gained  —  of  his  maturity.  He  agreed  with  what  she 
said.  And  yet  it  was  shocking  to  him  to  hear  her  say 
it. 

"  I  don't  quarrel  with  you  as  to  that,"  he  said,  gravely, 
after  a  moment.  *'  Though  I  confess  that  in  my  belief 
you  are  too  young  to  have  any  real  opinion  about  it. 
But  there  was  much  in  the  case  which  concerned  Mr. 
Lathrop,  of  which  you  can  have  no  idea.  I  repeat  — • 
he  is  not  a  fit  companion  for  you  —  and  you  do  your- 
self harm  by  appearing  M'ith  him  —  in  public  or  pri- 
vate." 

"  Miss  Marvell  approves  " —  said  Delia  obstinately. 

Winnington's  look  grew  sterner. 

"  I  appeal  again  to  your  father's  memory,"  he  said 
with  energy. 

He  perceived  her  quickened  breath,  but  she  made  no 
no  reply. 

He  walked  away  from  her,  and  stood  looking  out  of 
the  window  for  a  little.  When  he  came  back  to  her,  it 
was  with  a  change  of  manner  and  subject. 


126  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  I  should  like  you  to  understand  that  I  have  been 
doing  all  I  could  to  carry  out  your  wishes  with  regard 
to  the  cottages." 

He  drew  a  paper  out  of  his  pocket,  on  which  he  had 
made  some  notes  representing  his  talk  that  morning  with 
the  agent  of  the  Maumsey  estates.  But  in  her  sup- 
pressed excitement  she  hardly  listened  to  him. 

"  It  isn't  exactly  business,  what  we've  done,"  he  said 
at  last,  as  he  put  up  the  papers ;  "  but  we  wanted  you 
to  have  your  way  —  about  the  old  woman  —  and  the 
family  of  children."  He  smiled  at  her.  "  And  the  es- 
tate can  afford  it." 

Delia  thanked  him  ungraciously.  She  felt  like  a  child 
who  is  offered  sixpence  for  being  good  at  the  dentist's. 
It  was  his  whole  position  towards  her  —  his  whole  con- 
trol and  authority  —  that  she  resented.  And  to  be 
forced  to  be  grateful  to  him  at  the  same  time,  compelled 
to  recognise  the  anxious  pains  he  had  taken  to  please 
her  in  nine-tenths  of  the  things  she  wanted,  was  really 
odious :  she  could  only  chafe  under  it. 

Pie  took  her  back  to  the  drawing-room.  Delia  walked 
before  him  in  silence.  She  was  passionately  angry ;  and 
yet  beneath  the  stormy  currents  of  the  upper  mind, 
there  were  other  feelings,  intermittently  active.  It  was 
impossible  to  hate  him !  —  impossible  to  help  liking  him. 
His  frankness  and  courtesy,  his  delicacy  of  feeling  and 
touch  forced  themselves  on  her  notice.  "  I  daresay !  " 
—  she  said ;  " —  but  that's  the  worst  of  it.  If  Papa 
hadn't  done  this  fatal,  foolish  thing,  of  course  we  should 
have  made  friends  !  " 

The  Amberleys  walked  home  together  when  the  party 
dispersed.  Mrs.  Amberley  opened  the  discussion  on  the 
newcomers. 


Delia  Blanchflower  127 

"  She  is  certainly  handsome,  but  rather  bold-looking. 
Didn't  you  think  so,  father?  " 

"  I  wasn't  drawn  to  her.  But  she  took  no  account 
of  us,"  said  the  Rector,  with  his  usual  despondent  can- 
dour. In  truth  he  was  not  thinking  about  Miss  Blanch- 
flower,  but  only  about  the  possible  departure  of  his 
daughter,  Susy. 

"I  thought  her  beautiful!  —  but  I'm  sorry  for  Mr. 
Winnington !  "  exclaimed  Susy,  a  red  spot  of  excitement 
or  indignation  in  each  delicate  cheek. 

"  Mrs.  Matheson  told  me  they  will  only  do  exactly 
what  the}'  wish  —  that  they  won't  take  her  brother's 
advice.  Very  wrong,  very  wrong."  The  Rector  shook 
his  grey  head.  "  Young  women  were  different  in  my 
youth.'' 

Mrs.  Amberley  sighed,  and  Susy  biting  her  lip,  knew 
that  her  own  conduct  was  perhaps  more  in  question 
than  Miss  Blanchflowcr's. 

They  reached  home  in  silence.  Susy  went  to  light 
her  father's  candles  in  his  modest  book-littered  study. 
Then  she  put  her  mother  on  the  sofa  in  the  drawing- 
room,  rubbed  Mrs.  Amberley's  cold  hands  and  feet,  and 
blew  up  the  fire. 

Suddenly  her  mother  threw  an  arm  round  her  neck. 

"  Oh,  Susy,  must  you  go?  " 

Susy  kissed  her. 

"  I  should  come  back  " —  she  said  after  a  moment  in 
a  low  troubled  voice.  "  Let  me  get  this  training,  and 
then  if  you  want  me,  darling,  I'll  come  back." 

"  Can't  you  be  happy  with  us,  Susy.?  " 

"  I  want  to  know  something  —  and  do  something," 
said  Sus}',  with  intensity  —  evading  the  question.  "  It's 
such  a  big  world,  mother !  I'll  be  better  worth  having 
afterwards." 


128  Delia  Blanchflower 

Mrs.  Amberley  said  nothing.  But  a  little  later  she 
went  into  her  husband's  study. 

"  Frank  —  I  think  we'll  have  to  let  her,"  she  said 
piteously. 

The  Rector  looked  up  assentingly,  and  put  his  hand 
in  his  wife's. 

"  It's  strange  how  different  it  all  seems  nowadays," 
said  Mrs.  Amberley,  in  her  low  quavering  voice.  "  If 
I'd  wanted  to  do  what  Susy  wants,  my  mother  would 
have  called  me  a  wicked  girl  to  leave  all  my  duties  — 
and  I  shouldn't  have  dared.  But  we  can't  take  it  like 
that,  Frank,  somehow." 

"  No,"  said  the  Rector  slowly.  "  In  the  old  days  it 
used  to  be  only  duties  for  the  3'oung  —  now  it's  rights 
too.     It's  God's  will." 

"  Susy  loves  us,  Frank.      She's  a  good  girl." 

"  She's  a  good  girl  —  and  she  shall  do  what  she 
thinks  proper,"  said  the  Rector,  rising  heavily. 

So  they  gave  their  consent,  and  Susy  wrote  her  ap- 
plication to  Guy's  hospital.  Then  they  all  three  lay 
awake  a  good  deal  of  the  night, —  almost  till  the  autumn 
robin  began  to  sing  in  the  little  rectory  garden. 

As  for  Susy,  in  the  restless  intervals  of  restless  sleep, 
she  was  always  back  in  the  Bridge  End  drawing-room 
Avatching  Delia  Blanchflower  come  in,  with  Mark  Win- 
nington  behind.  How  glorious  she  looked !  And  every 
day  he  would  be  seeing  her,  every  day  he  would  be  think- 
ing about  her  —  just  because  she  was  sure  to  give  him 
so  much  trouble. 

"  And  what  right  have  you  to  complain  ?  "  she  asked 
herself,  trampling  on  her  own  pain.  Had  he  ever  said 
a  word  of  love  to  her,  ever  shewn  himself  anything  else 
than  the  kind  and  sympathetic  friend  —  sometimes  the 
inspiring  teacher  in  the  causes  he  had  at  heart  ?     Never ! 


Delia  Blanchflower  12Q 

And  yet  —  insensibly  —  his  smile,  his  word  of  praise  or 
thanks,  the  touch  of  his  firm  warm  hand,  the  sound  of 
his  voice,  the  look  in  his  eyes  —  it  was  for  them  she 
had  now  learned  to  live.  Yes  !  —  and  because  she  could 
no  longer  trust  herself,  she  must  go.  She  would  not 
fail  or  harass  him ;  she  was  his  friend.  She  would  go  ~1 
away  and  scrub  hospital  flooi-s,  and  polish  hospital  taps.  ^ 
That  would  tame  the  anguish  in  her,  and  some  day  she 
would  be  strong  again  —  and  come  back  —  to  those  be- 
loved ones  who  had  given  her  up  —  so  tenderly. 


Chapter  VIII 

THE  whole  of  Maumsey  and  its  neighbourhood  had 
indeed  been  thrown  into  excitement  by  certain  pla- 
cards on  the  walls  announcing  three  public  meetings  to 
be  held  —  a  fortnight  later  —  by  the  "  Daughters  of 
Revolt  " —  at  Latchford,  Brownmouth,  and  Frimpton. 
Latchford  was  but  fifteen  miles  from  Maumsey,  and 
frequent  trains  ran  between  them.  Brownmouth  and 
Frimpton,  also,  were  within  easy  distance  by  rail,  and 
the  Mauraseyites  were  accustomed  to  shop  at  either. 
So  that  a  wide  country-side  felt  itself  challenged  —  in- 
vaded ;  at  a  moment  when  a  series  of  startling  outrages 
—  destruction  of  some  of  the  nation's  noblest  pictures, 
in  the  National  Gallery  and  elsewhere,  defacement  of 
churches,  personal  attacks  on  Ministers  —  by  the  mem- 
bers of  various  militant  societies,  especially  "  The  League 
of  Revolt,"  had  converted  an  already  incensed  public 
opinion  into  something  none  the  less  ugly,  none  the  less 
alarming,  because  it  had  as  j^et  found  no  organised  ex- 
pression. The  police  were  kept  hard  at  work  protect- 
ing open-air  meetings  on  the  Brownmouth  and  Frimpton 
beaches,  from  an  angry  populace  who  desired  to  break 
them  up ;  every  unknown  woman  who  approached  a  vil- 
lage or  strolled  into  a  village  church,  was  immediately 
noticed,  immediately  reported  on,  by  hungry  eyes  and 
tongues  alert  for  catastrophe ;  and  every  empty  house 
had  become  an  anxiety  to  its  owners. 

And  of  course  the  sting  of  the  outrage  lay  in  the  two 
names  which  blazed  in  the  largest  of  black  print  from 
the  centre  of  the  placards.  "  The  meeting  will  be  ad- 
dressed by  Gertrude  Marvell  (D.R.),  Delia  Blanchflower 
(D.R.),  and  Paul  Lathrop." 

130 


Delia  Blanchflower  131 

Within  barely  two  months  of  her  father's  death,  this 
young  lady  to  be  speaking  on  public  platforms,  in  the 
district  where  she  was  still  a  new-comer  and  a  stranger, 
and  flaunting  in  the  black  and  orange  of  this  unspeak- 
able society !  —  such  was  the  thought  of  all  quiet  folk 
for  miles  round.  The  tide  of  callers  which  had  set  in 
towards  Maumsey  Abbey  ceased  to  flow ;  neighbours  whb 
had  been  already  introduced  to  her,  old  friends  of  her 
grandparents,  passed  Delia  on  the  road  with  either  the 
stifFest  of  bows  or  no  notice  at  all.  The  labourers 
stared  at  her,  and  their  wives,  those  deepest  well-heads 
of  Conservatism  in  the  country,  were  loud  in  reproba- 
tion. Their  astonishment  that  "  them  as  calls  their- 
selves  ladies  "  should  be  found  burning  and  breaking, 
was  always,  in  Winnington's  ears,  a  touching  thing,  and 
a  humbling.  "  Violence  and  arson  "  they  seemed  to  say, 
"  are  good  enough  for  the  likes  of  us  —  you'd  expect  it 
of  us.  But  you  —  the  glorified,  the  superfine  —  who 
have  your  meals  brought  you  regular,  more  food  than 
you  can  eat,  and  more  clothes  than  you  can  wear  — 

7J0U.!  " 

So  that,  underlying  the  country  women's  talk,  and 
under  the  varnish  of  our  modem  life,  one  caught  the 
accents  and  the  shape  of  an  old  hierarchical  world ;  and 
the  man  of  sympathy  winced  anew  under  the  perennial 
submission  and  disadvantage  of  the  poor. 

Meanwhile  Delia's  life  was  one  long  excitement.  The 
more  she  realised  the  disapproval  of  her  neighbours,  the 
more  convinced  she  was  that  she  was  on  the  right  road. 
She  straightened  her  girlish  back ;  she  set  her  firm  red 
mouth.  Every  morning  brought  reams  of  letters  and 
reports  from  London,  for  Gertrude  Marvell  was  an  im- 
portant member  of  the  "  Daughters'  "  organisation,  and 
must  be  kept   informed.     The  reading  of  them   main- 


132  Delia  Blanchflower 

tained  a  constant  ferment  in  Delia,  In  any  struggle 
of  women  against  men,  just  as  in  any  oppression  of 
women  by  men,  there  is  an  element  of  fever,  of  madness, 
which  poisons  life.  And  in  this  element  Delia's  spirit 
lived  for  this  brief  hour  of  her  3'outh.  Led  by  the  per- 
petual influence  of  the  older  mind  and  imagination  at 
her  side,  she  was  overshadowed  with  the  sense  of  women's 
wrongs,  haunted  by  their  grievances,  burnt  up  by  a 
flame  of  revolt  against  fate,  against  society,  above  all, 
against  men,  conceived  as  the  age-long  and  irrational 
barrier  in  the  path  of  women.  It  was  irrational,  and 
therefore  no  rational  methods  were  any  good.  Nothing 
but  waspishly  stinging  and  hurting  this  great  jMan- 
Beast,  nothing  but  defiance  of  all  rules  and  decorums, 
nothing  but  force  —  of  the  womanish  kind  —  answering 
to  force,  of  the  masculine  kind,  could  be  any  use.  Ar- 
gument was  foolish.  They  —  the  Suffragists  —  had 
already  stuffed  the  world  with  argument;  which  only 
generated  argument.  To  smash  and  break  and  burn, 
in  more  senses  than  one,  remained  the  only  course,  wit- 
ness Nottingham  Castle,  and  the  Hyde  Park  railings. 
And  if  a  woman's  life  dashed  itself  to  pieces  in  the 
process,  well,  what  matter?  The  cause  would  only  be 
advanced. 

One  evening,  not  long  after  the  tea-party  at  Bridge 
End,  a  group  of  persons,  coming  from  different  quarters, 
converged  quietly,  in  the  autumn  dusk,  on  Maumsey 
Abbey.  Marion  Andrews  walked  in  front,  with  a  Miss 
Foster,  the  daughter  of  one  of  the  larger  fanners  in  the 
neighbourhood ;  and  a  short  limping  woman,  clinging  to 
the  arm  of  a  vigorously-built  girl,  the  Science  Mistress 
of  the  small  but  ancient  Grammar  School  of  the  vil- 
lage, came  behind.  They  talked  in  low  voices,  and  any 
shrewd  bystander  would  have   perceived  the   mood   of 


Delia  Blanchflower  133 

agitated    expectancy    in    which    they    approached    the 
house. 

"  It's  wonderful !  "  said  little  Miss  Toogood,  the  lame 
dressmaker,  as  tlie}^  turned  a  corner  of  the  shrubbery, 
and  the  rambling  south  front  rose  before  them, — 
"  wonderful!  — •  when  you  think  of  the  people  that  used 
to  live  here!  Why,  old  Lady  Blanchflower  looked  upon 
you  and  me,  Miss  Jackson,  as  no  better  than  earwigs ! 
I  sent  her  a  packet  of  our  leaflets  once  by  post.  Well 
—  she  never  used  to  give  me  any  work,  so  she  couldn't 
take  it  awa3\  But  she  got  Mrs.  David  Jones  at  Thring 
Farm  to  take  away  hers,  and  Mrs.  Willy  Smith,  the 
A'et's  wife,  you  remember.?  —  and  two  or  three  more. 
So  I  nearly  starved  one  winter;  but  I'm  a  tough  one, 
and  I  got  through.  And  now  there's  one  of  us  sits  in 
the  old  lady's  place!     Isn't  that  a  sign  of  the  times.?  " 

"  But  of  course !  "  said  her  companion,  whose  face 
expressed  a  kind  of  gloomy  ardour.  "  We're  winning. 
We  must  win  —  sometime !  " 

The  cheerfulness  of  the  words  was  oddly  robbed  of 
its  effect  by  the  tragic  look  of  the  speaker.  Miss  Too- 
good's  hand  pressed  her  arm. 

"  I'm  always  so  sorry  " —  murmured  the  dressmaker 
— "  for  those  others  —  those  women  —  who  haven't  lived 
to  see  what  we're  going  to  see,  aren't  you.?  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  other,  adding  —  with  the  same 
emotional  emphasis  — "  But  they've  all  helped  —  every 
woman's  helped!     They've  all  played  their  parts." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  a])out  Lady  Blanchflower!" 
laughed  INIiss  Toogood,  happily. 

"  What  did  she  matter.?  The  Antis  are  like  the  bits 
of  stick  3^ou  put  into  a  hive.  All  they  do  is  to  stir 
up  the  bees." 

Meanwhile  Marion  Andrews  wa.s  mostly  silent,  glanc- 


134  Delia  Blanchflower 

ing  restlessly  however  from  side  to  side,  as  though  she 
expected  some  sp}^,  some  enemy  —  her  mother?  —  to 
emerge  upon  them  from  the  shadows  of  the  shrubber3^ 
Her  companion,  Kitty  Foster,  a  rather  pretty  girl  with 
flaming  red  hair,  the  daughter  of  a  substantial  farmer 
on  the  further  side  of  the  village,  chattered  unceasingly, 
especially  about  the  window-breaking  raid  in  which  she 
had  been  concerned,  the  figure  she  had  cut  at  the  police 
court,  the  things  she  had  said  to  the  magistrate,  and  the 
annoyance  she  had  felt  when  her  father  paid  her  fine. 

"  They  led  me  a  life  when  they  got  me  home.  And 
mother's  been  so  ill  since,  I  had  to  promise  I'd  stay 
quiet  till  Christmas  anyway.  But  then  I'm  off!  It's 
fine  to  feel  you're  doing  something  real  —  something 
hot  and  strong  —  so  that  people  can't  help  taking  notice 
of  3^ou.  That's  what  I  say  to  father,  when  he  shouts  at 
me  — '  we're  not  going  to  ask  you  now  any  more  — 
we've  asked  long  enough  —  we're  going  to  make  you  do 
what  we  want.'  " 

And  the  girl  threw  back  her  head  excitedly.  Marion 
vaguely  assented,  and  the  talk  beside  her  rambled  on, 
now  violent,  now  egotistical,  till  they  reached  the  Maum- 
sey  door. 

"  Now  that  we've  got  women  like  you  with  us  —  it 
can't  be  long  —  it  can't  be  long ! "  repeated  Miss  Too- 
good,  clasping  her  hands,  as  she  looked  first  at  Delia, 
and  then  at  the  distant  figure  of  Miss  Mar^^ell,  who  in 
the  further  drawing-room,  and  through  an  archway, 
could  be  seen  talking  with  Marion  Andrews. 

Delia's  brows  puckered. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  long,"  she  said,  with  a  kind 
of    weary    passion.     "  The    forces    against    us    are    so 


Delia  Blanchflower  135 

strong.     But  we  must  just  go  on  —  and  on  —  straight 
ahead." 

She  sat  erect  on  her  chair,  very  straight  and  slim,  in 
her  black  dress,  her  hands,  with  their  long  fingers,  tightly 
pressed  together  on  her  knee.  Miss  Toogood  thought 
she  had  never  seen  anyone  so  handsome,  or  so  —  so 
splendid!  All  that  was  romantic  in  the  little  dress- 
maker's soul  rose  to  appreciate  Delia  Blanchflower.  So 
young  and  so  self-sacrificing  —  and  looking  like  a  pic- 
ture of  Saint  Cecilia  that  hung  in  Miss  Toogood's  back 
room  !  The  Movement  was  indeed  wonderful !  How  it 
broke  down  class  barriers,  and  knit  all  women  together ! 
As  her  eyes  fell  on  the  picture  of  Lady  Blanchflower,  in 
a  high  cap  and  mittens,  over  the  mantelpiece.  Miss  Too- 
good  felt  a  sense  of  personal  triumph  over  the  barbarous 
and  ignorant  past. 

"  What  I  mind  most  is  the  apathy  of  people  —  the 
people  down  here.  It's  really  terrible !  "  said  the  science 
mistress,  in  her  melancholy  voice.  "  Sometimes  I 
hardly  know  how  to  bear  it.  One  thinks  of  all  that's 
going  on  in  London  —  and  in  the  big  towns  up  north 
—  and  here  —  it's  like  a  vault.  Everyone's  really 
against  us.  Why  the  poor  people  —  the  labourers' 
wives  —  they're   the   worst   of   any !  " 

"  Oh  no  !  —  we're  getting  on  —  we're  getting  on  !  " 
said  Miss  Toogood,  hastily.  "  You're  too  despondent. 
Miss  Jackson,  if  you'll  excuse  me  —  you  are  indeed. 
Now  I'm  never  downhearted,  or  if  I  am,  I  say  to  my- 
self — '  It's  all  right  somewhere  !  —  somewhere  that  you 
can't  see.'  And  I  think  of  a  poem  my  father  was  fond 
of  — *  If  hopes  are  dupes,  fears  may  be  liars  —  And 
somewhere  in  yon  smoke  concealed  —  Your  comrades 
chase  e'en  now  the  fliers  —  And  but  for  you  possess  the 


136 


Delia  Blanchflower 


field ! '  That's  bj  a  man  called  Arthur  Clough  — 
Miss  Blanchflower  —  and  it's  a  grand  poem !  " 

Her  pale  blue  eyes  shone  in  their  wrinkled  sockets. 
Delia  remembered  a  recent  visit  to  Miss  Toogood's  tiny 
parlour  behind  the  front  room  where  she  saw  her  few 
customers  and  tried  them  on.  She  recollected  the  books 
which  the  back  parlour  contained.  Miss  Toogood's 
father  had  been  a  bookseller  —  evidently  a  reading  book- 
seller —  in  Winchester,  and  In  the  deformed  and  twisted 
form  of  his  daughter  some  of  his  soul,  his  affections  and 
interests,  survived. 

"  Yes,  but  what  are  you  going  to  give  us  to  do.  Miss 
Blanchflower.?  "  said  Kitty  Foster,  impatiently  — "  I 
don't  care  what  I  do !  And  the  more  it  makes  the  men 
mad,  the  better  I  " 

She  drew  herself  up  aff"ectedly.  She  was  a  strapping 
girl,  with  a  huge  vanit}-  and  a  parrot's  brain.  A  year 
before  this  date  a  "  disappointment  "  had  greatly  em- 
bittered her,  and  the  processions  and  the  crowded  Lon- 
don meetings,  and  the  window-breaking  riots  into  which 
she  had  been  led  while  staying  with  a  friend,  had  been 
the  solace  and  relief  of  a  personal  rancour  and  misery 
she  might  else  have  found  intolerable. 

"  /  can't  do  anything  —  not  anything  public  " —  said 
Miss  Jackson,  with  emphasis  — "  or  I  should  lose  my 
post.  Oh  the  slavery  it  is  !  and  the  pittance  they  paj'  us 
■ —  compared  to  the  men.  Every  man  in  the  Boys'  school 
get  £120  and  over  —  and  we're  thought  lucky  to  get 
£80.  And  I'll  be  bound  we  work  more  hours  in  the  week 
than  they  do.     It's  hard!  " 

"  That'll  soon  be  mended,"  said  Miss  Toogood  hope- 
fully. "  Look  at  Norway  I  As  soon  as  the  women  got 
the  vote,  why  the  women's  salaries  in  public  offices  were 
put  up  at  once." 


Delia  Blanchflower  137 

The  strong,  honest  face  of  the  teacher  refused  to 
smile.  "  Well  it  isn't  always  so,  Miss  Toogood.  I 
know  they  say  that  in  New  Zealand  and  Colorado  — 
where  we've  got  the  vote  —  salaries  aren't  equal  by  any 
manner  of  means." 

The  dressmaker's  withered  cheek  flushed  red. 

"  '  They  say  '  " —  she  repeated  scornfully.  "  That's 
one  of  the  Anti  dodges  —  just  picking  out  the  things 
that  suit  'em,  and  forgetting  all  the  rest.  Don't  you 
look  at  the  depressing  things  —  I  never  do !  Look  at 
what  helps  us !  There's  a  lot  o'  things  said  —  and 
there's  a  lot  of  things  ain't  true  —  You've  got  to  pick 
and  choose  —  you  can't  take  'em  as  they  come.  No 
one  can." 

Miss  Jackson  looked  puzzled  and  unconvinced ;  but 
could  think  of  no  reply. 

The  two  persons  in  the  distance  appeared  in  the  arch- 
way between  the  drawing-rooms,  Gertrude  Marvell  lead- 
ing. Everyone  looked  towards  her;  everybody  listened 
for  what  she  would  say.  She  took  Delia's  chair,  Delia 
instinctively  yielding  it,  and  then  —  her  dark  eyes  meas- 
uring and  probing  them  all  while  she  talked,  she  gave 
the  little  group  its  orders. 

Kitty  Foster  was  to  be  one  of  the  band  of  girl-sellers 
of  the  Tocsin,  in  Latchford,  the  day  of  the  meeting. 
The  town  was  to  be  sown  with  it  from  end  to  end,  and 
just  before  the  meeting,  groups  of  sellers,  in  the 
"  Daughters'  "  black  and  orange,  were  to  appear  in 
every  corner  of  the  square  where  the  open-air  meeting 
was  to  be  held. 

"  But  we'll  put  you  beside  the  speaker's  waggon. 
You're  so  tall,  and  your  hair  is  enough  to  advertise  any- 
thing !  "  With  a  grim  little  smile,  she  stretched  out  a 
hand  and  touched  Kitty  Foster's  arm. 


138  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  splendid !  "  said  Delia,  ardently. 

Kitty  flushed  and  bridled.  Her  people  in  the  farm- 
house at  home  thought  her  hair  ugly,  and  frankly  told 
her  so.  It  was  nice  to  be  admired  by  Miss  Blanch- 
flower  and  her  friend.  Ladies  who  lived  in  a  big  house, 
with  pictures  and  fine  furniture,  and  everything  hand- 
some, must  know  better  than  farm-people  who  never 
saw  anything  but  their  cattle  and  their  fields. 

"  And  you  " —  the  clear  authoritative  voice  addressed 
Miss  Toogood — "can  you  take  round  notices?" 

The  speaker  looked  doubtfully  at  the  woman's  lame 
foot  and  stick. 

Miss  Toogood  replied  that  she  would  be  at  Latchford 
by  midday,  and  would  take  round  notices  till  she 
dropped. 

The  teacher  who  could  do  nothing  public,  was  in- 
vited to  come  to  Maumsey  in  the  evening,  and  address 
envelopes.  Miss  Marvell  had  lately  imported  a  Secre- 
tary, who  had  set  up  her  quarters  in  the  old  gun  room 
on  the  ground  floor,  and  had  already  filled  it  with  cor- 
respondence, and  stacked  it  with  the  literature  of  the 
Daughters. 

Miss  Jackson  eagerly  promised  her  help. 

Nothing  was  apportioned  to  JMarion  Andrews.  She 
sat  silent  following  the  words  and  gestures  of  that  spare 
figure  in  the  grey  cloth  dress,  in  whom  they  all  recog- 
nised their  chief.  There  was  a  feverish  brooding  in  her 
look,  as  though  she  was  doubly  conscious  —  both  of  the 
scene  before  her,  and  of  something  only  present  to  the 
mind. 

"  You  know  why  we  are  holding  these  meetings  " — 
said  Gertrude  Marvell,  presently. 

No  one  answered.     They  waited  for  her. 

"  It  is  a  meeting  of  denunciation,"  she  said,  sharply. 


Delia  Blanchfiower  139 

"  You  know  in  the  Land  League  days  in  Ireland  the^^ 
used  to  hold  meetings  to  denounce  a  landlord  —  for  evic- 
tions —  and  that  landlord  went  afterwards  in  fear  — 
scorned  —  and  cursed  —  and  bo3^cottcd.  Well,  that's 
what  we're  going  to  do  with  Ministers  in  their  own  lo- 
calities where  they  live  !  We  can't  boycott  yet  —  Ave 
haven't  the  power.     But  we  can  denounce  —  we  can  set 

people  on  —  we  can  hold  a  man  up we  can  make  his 

life  a  burden  to  him.  And  that's  what  we're  going  to 
do  —  with  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang.  He's  one  of  this  brutal 
Cabinet  that  keeps  women  in  prison  —  one  of  the 
strongest  of  them.  His  speeches  have  turned  votes 
against  us  in  the  House  of  Commons,  time  after  time. 
We  mean  to  be  even  with  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang !  " 

She  spoke  quite  quietly  —  almost  under  her  breath ; 
but  her  slender  fingers  interlocked,  and  a  steady  glow 
had  overflowed  her  pale  cheeks. 

A  tremor  passed  through  all  her  listeners  —  a  tremor 
of  excitement. 

"  What  can  we  do?  "  said  Miss  Toogood  at  last,  in 
a  low  voice.  Her  eyes  stared  out  of  her  kind  old  face, 
which  had  grown  white.  "  Ah,  leave  that  to  us !  "  said 
Miss  Marvcll,  in  another  voice,  the  dry  organising  voice, 
which  was  her  usual  one.  And  dropping  all  emotion  and 
excitement,  she  began  rapidly  to  question  three  out  of 
the  four  women  as  to  the  neighbourhood,  the  opinions  of 
individuals  and  classes,  the  strength  in  it  of  the  old  Suf- 
frage societies,  the  presence  or  absence  of  propaganda. 
They  answered  her  eagerly.  They  all  felt  themselves 
keyed  to  a  higher  note  since  she  had  entered  the  room. 
They  had  got  to  business ;  they  felt  themselves  a  power, 
the  rank  and  file  of  an  "  army  with  banners,"  under  di- 
rection. Even  Delia,  clearly,  was  in  the  same  relation 
towards  this  woman  whom  the  outer  world  only  knew  as 


140  Delia  Blanchflower 

her  —  presumably  —  paid  companion.  She  was  ques- 
tioned, put  right,  instructed  with  the  rest  of  them. 
Only  no  one  noticed  that  Marion  Andrews  took  Httle  or 
no  part  in  the  conversation. 

An  autumn  wind  raged  outside,  and  the  first  of  those 
dead  regiments  of  leaves  which  would  soon  be  choking 
the  lanes  were  pattering  against  the  windows.  Inside, 
the  fire  leapt  as  the  daylight  faded,  helped  by  a  couple 
of  lamps,  for  Maumsey  knew  no  electricity,  and  Delia, 
under  Gertrude's  prompting,  had  declared  against  the 
expense  of  putting  it  in.  In  the  dim  illumination  the 
faces  of  the  six  women  emerged,  t3'pical  all  of  them  of 
the  forces  behind  the  revolutionary  wing  of  the  woman's 
movement.  Enthusiasms  of  youth  and  age  —  hard- 
ships of  body  and  spirit  —  rancour  and  generous  hope 
—  sore  heart  and  untrained  mind  —  fanatical  brain  and 
dreaming  ignorance  —  love  unsatisfied,  and  energies  un- 
used—  they  were  all  there,  and  all  hanging  upon,  con- 
ditioned by  something  called  "  the  vote,"  conceived  as 
the  only  means  to  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth. 

When  Delia  had  herself  dismissed  her  guests  into  the 
darkness  of  the  October  evening,  she  returned  thought- 
fully to  where  Gertrude  Marvel!  was  standing  b}'^  the 
drawing-room  fire,  reading  a  letter. 

"  You  gave  them  all  something  to  do  except  that  Miss 
Andrews,  Gertioide?     I  wonder  why  you  left  her  out.''  " 

"  Oh,  I  had  a  talk  with  her  before." 

The  tone  was  absent,  and  the  speaker  went  on  reading 
her  letter. 

"  When  you  took  her  into  the  back  drawing- 
room  ?  " 

The  slightest  possible  flicker  passed  through  Ger- 
trude's  drooped   eyelids. 


Delia  Blanchflower  141 

'*  She  was  telling  me  a  lot  about  her  home-life  — ■ 
poor  oppressed  thing!  " 

Delia  asked  no  more.  But  she  felt  a  vague  dis- 
comfort. 

Presently  Gertrude  put  down  her  letter,  and  turned 
towards  her. 

"  May  I  have  that  cheque,  dear  —  before  post-time  ? 
If  you  really  meant  it.''  " 

"  Certainly."  Delia  went  to  her  writing-table, 
opened  a  drawer  and  took  out  her  cheque-book. 

A  laugh  —  conscious  and  unsteady  —  accompanied 
the  dipping  of  her  pen  into  the  ink. 

"  I  wonder  what  he'll  say  ?  " 

"Who.?" 

"  Mr.  Winnington  —  when  I  send  him  all  the  bills  to 
be  paid." 

"  Isn't  he  there  to  pay  the  bills.?  " 

Delia's  face  shewed  a  little  impatience. 

"  You're  so  busy,  dear,  that  I  am  afraid  you  forget 
all  I  tell  you  about  my  own  affairs.  But  I  did  tell  you 
that  my  guardian  had  trustingly  paid  eight  hundred 
pounds  into  the  bank  to  last  me  till  the  New  Year,  for 
house  and  other  expenses  —  without  asking  me  to  prom- 
ise anything  either !  " 

"  Well,  now,  you  are  going  to  let  us  have  £500.  Is 
there  any  difficulty  ?  " 

"  None  —  except  that  the  ordinary  bills  I  don't  pay, 
and  can't  pay,  will  now  all  go  in  to  my  guardian,  who 
will  of  course  be  curious  to  know  what  I  have  done  with 
the  money.     Naturally  there'll  be  a  row." 

"  Oh,  a  row !  "  said  Gertrude  Marvell,  indifferently. 
"  It's  your  own  money,  Delia.     Spend  it  as  you  like !  " 

"  I  intend  to,"  said  Delia.  "  Still  —  I  do  rather  wish 
I'd  given  him  notice.     He  may  think  it  a  mean  trick." 


142  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Do  you  care  what  he  thinks?  " 

"  Not  —  much,"  said  Delia  slowly.  "  All  the  same, 
Gertrude  " —  she  threw  her  head  back  — "  he  is  an 
awfully  good  sort." 

Gertrude  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  daresay.  But  you  and  I  are  at  war  with  him  and 
his  like,  and  can't  stop  to  consider  that  kind  of  thing. 
Also  your  father  arranged  that  he  should  be  well  paid 
for  his  trouble." 

Delia  turned  back  to  the  writing-table,  and  wrote  the 
cheque. 

"  Thank  you,  dearest,"  said  Gertrude  Marvell,  giving 
a  light  kiss  to  the  hand  that  offered  the  cheque.  "  It 
shall  go  to  headquarters  this  evening  —  and  you'll  have 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  you've  financed  all  the 
three  bye-election  campaigns  that  are  coming  —  or 
nearly." 

Gertrude  had  gone  away  to  her  own  sitting-room  and 
Delia  was  left  alone.  She  hung  over  the  fire,  in  an  ex- 
cited reverie,  her  pulses  rushing ;  and  presently  she  took 
a  letter  from  the  handbag  on  her  wrist,  and  read  it  for 
the  second  time  by  the  light  of  the  blaze  she  had  kindled 
in  the  grate. 

"  I  will  be  at  the  Rose  and  Crown  at  least  half  an  hour 
before  the  meeting.  We  have  got  a  capital  waggon  for 
you  to  speak  from,  and  chosen  the  place  where  it  is  to  stand. 
I  am  afraid  we  may  have  some  rough  customers  to  deal 
with.  But  the  police  have  been  strongly  warned  —  that 
I  have  found  out  —  though  I  don't  know  by  whom  —  and 
there  will  be  plenty  of  them.  My  one  regret  is  that  I 
cannot  be  in  the  crowd,  so  as  both  to  see  and  hear  you.  I 
must  of  course  stick  to  the  waggon.  What  a  day  for  us 
all  down  here !  —  for  our  little  down-trodden  band !     You 


Delia  Blanchflower  143 

come  to  us  as  our  Joan  of  Arc,  leading  us  on  a  holy  war. 
You  shame  us  into  action,  and  to  fight  with  you  is  itself  vic- 
tory. When  I  think  of  how  you  looked  and  how  you 
talked  the  other  night !  Do  you  know  that  you  have  a  face 
'  to  launch  a  thousand  ships  ?  '  No,  I  am  convinced  you  never 
think  of  it  —  you  never  take  your  own  beauty  into  con- 
sideration. And  you  won't  imagine  that  I  am  talking  in 
this  way  from  any  of  the  usual  motives.  Your  personal 
charm,  if  I  may  say  so,  is  merely  an  item  in  our  balance 
sheet;  your  money  —  I  understand  you  have  money  —  is 
another.  You  bring  your  beauty  and  your  money  in  your 
hand,  and  throw  them  into  the  great  conflagration  of  the 
Cause  —  just  as  the  women  did  in  Savonarola's  day.  You 
fling  them  away  —  if  need  be  —  for  an  idea.  And  because 
of  it,  all  the  lovers  of  ideas,  and  all  the  dreamers  of  great 
dreams  will  be  your  slaves  and  servants.  Understand !  — 
you  are  going  to  be  loved  and  followed,  as  no  ordinary 
woman,  even  with  your  beauty,  is  ever  loved  and  followed. 
Your  footsteps  may  be  on  the  rocks  and  flints  —  I  promise 
you  no  easy,  nor  royal  road.  There  may  be  blood  on  the 
path !  But  a  cloud  of  witnesses  will  be  all  about  you  — 
some  living  and  some  dead ;  you  will  be  carried  in  the  hearts 
of  innumerable  men  and  women  —  women  above  all ;  and 
if  you  stand  firm,  if  your  soul  rises  to  the  height  of  your 
call,  you  will  be  worshipped,  as  the  saints  were  worshipped. 
"  Only  let  nothing  bar  your  path.  Winnington  is  a  good 
fellow,  but  a  thickheaded  Philistine  all  the  same.  You 
spoke  to  me  about  him  with  compunction.  Have  no  com- 
punctions. Go  straight  forward.  Women  have  got  to  shew 
themselves  ruthless,  and  hard,  and  cunning,  like  men  —  if 
they  are  to  fight  men. 

"  Yours  faithfiJly, 

"  Paul  Lathrop." 

Delia's  thoughts  dcnccd  and  flamed,  like  the  pile  of 
blazing  wood  before  her.  What  a  singular  being  was 
this   Paul  Lathrop  I     He  had   paid   them   four  or  five 


144  Delia  Blanchflower 

visits  already ;  and  they  had  taken  tea  with  him  once 
in  his  queer  hermitage  under  the  southern  slope  of  the 
Monk  Lawrence  hill  — a  one-storey  thatched  cottage, 
mostly  built  by  Lathrop  himself  with  the  help  of  two 
labourers,  standing  amid  a  network  of  ponds,  stocked 
with  trout  in  all  stages.  Inside,  the  roughly-plastered 
walls  were  lined  with  books  —  chiefly  modern  poets,  with 
French  and  Russian  novels,  and  with  unframed  sketches 
by  some  of  the  ultra  clever  fellows,  who  often,  it  seemed, 
would  come  down  to  spend  Sunday  with  Lathrop,  and 
talk  and  smoke  till  dawn  put  out  the  lights. 

She  found  him  interesting  —  certainly  interesting. 
His  outer  man —  heavy  mouth  and  lantern  cheeks  — 
dreamy  blue  eyes,  and  fair  hair  —  together  with  the 
clumsy  power  in  his  form  and  gait,  were  not  without  a 
certain  curious  attraction.  And  his  story  —  as  Ger- 
trude IMarvell  told  it  —  would  be  forgiven  by  the  ro- 
mantic. All  the  same  his  letter  had  offended  Delia 
greatly.  She  had  given  him  no  encouragement  to  write 
in  such  a  tone  —  so  fervid,  so  emotional,  so  intimate ; 
and  she  would  shew  him  —  plainly  —  that  it  offended 
her. 

Nevertheless  the  phrases  of  the  letter  ran  in  her  mind ; 
until  her  discomfort  and  resentment  were  lost  in  some- 
thing else. 

She  could  not  quiet  her  conscience  about  that  cheque ! 
Not  indeed  as  to  giving  it  to  the  "  Daughters."  She 
would  have  given  everything  she  possessed  to  them,  keep- 
ing the  merest  pittance  for  herself,  if  fate  and  domestic 
tyranny  had  allowed.  No !  —  but  it  hurt  her  —  un- 
reasonably, foolishly  hurt  her  —  that  she  must  prepare 
herself  again  to  face  the  look  of  troubled  amazement  in 
Mark  Winnington's  eyes,  without  being  able  to  justify 


Delia  Blanchflower  145 

hei'self  to  herself,  so  convincingly  as  she  would  have  liked 
to  do. 

"  I  am  simply  giving  my  own  money  to  a  cause  I 
adore ! "  said  one  voice  in  the  mind. 

"  It  is  not  legally  yours  —  it  is  legally  his,"  said  an- 
other. "  You  should  have  warned  him.  You  have  got 
hold  of  it  under  false  pretences." 

"  Quibbles  !  It  is  mine  —  equitably,"  replied  the  first. 
"  He  and  I  are  at  war.     And  I  have  warned  him." 

"At  war.''"  Her  tiresome  conscience  kicked  again. 
Why,  not  a  day  had  passed  since  her  settlement  at 
Maumsey,  without  some  proof,  small  or  great,  of  Win- 
nington's  consideration  and  care  for  her.  She  knew 
—  guiltily  knew,  that  he  was  overwhelmed  by  the  busi- 
ness of  the  executorship  and  the  estate,  and  had  been 
forced  to  put  aside  some  of  his  own  favourite  occupa- 
tions to  attend  to  it. 

"  Well !  —  my  father  made  it  worth  his  while !  " 

But  her  cheek  reddened,  with  a  kind  of  shame,  as  the 
thought  passed  through  her  mind.  Even  in  this  short 
time  and  because  of  the  daily  contact  which  their  busi- 
ness relations  required,  she  was  beginning  to  know  Win- 
nington,  to  realise  something  of  his  life  and  character. 
And  as  for  the  love  borne  him  in  the  neighbourhood  — 
it  was  really  preposterous  —  bad  for  any  man !  Delia 
pitied  herself,  not  only  because  she  was  Winnington's 
ward  against  her  will,  but  because  of  the  silent  force  of 
public  opinion  that  upheld  him,  and  must  necessarily 
condemn  her. 

So  he  had  once  been  engaged.?  Lady  Tonbridge  had 
told  her  so.  To  a  gentle,  saintly  person  of  course!  — 
a  person  to  suit  him.  Delia  could  not  help  a  movement 
of  half  petulant  curiosity  —  and  then  an  involuntary 


146 


Delia  Blanchflower 


thrill.  Many  women  since  had  been  in  love  with  him. 
Lady  Tonbridge  had  said  as  much.  And  he  —  with 
no  one  !  But  he  had  a  great  many  women  friends?  No 
doubt !  —  with  that  manner,  and  that  charm.  Delia 
resented  the  women  friends.  She  would  have  been  quite 
ready  indeed  to  enrol  herself  among  them  —  to  worship 
with  the  rest  —  from  afar ;  were  it  not  for  ideas,  and 
principles,  and  honesty  of  soul !  As  it  was,  she  despised 
the  worship  of  which  she  was  told,  as  sometliing  blind 
and  overdone.  It  was  not  the  greatest  men  —  not  the 
best  men  —  who  were  so  easily  and  universally  beloved. 

What  did  he  really  think  of  her?  Did  he  ever  guess 
that  there  was  something  else  in  her  than  this  obstinacy, 
this  troublesomeness  with  which  she  was  forced  to  meet 
him?  She  was  sorry  for  herself,  much  more  than  for 
him ;  because  she  must  so  chill  and  mislead  a  man  who 
ought  to  understand  her. 

Looking  up  she  saw  a  dim  reflection  of  her  own  beauty 
in  the  glass  above  the  mantelpiece.  "  No,  I  am  not 
either  a  minx,  or  a  wild-cat !  " —  she  thought,  as  though 
she  were  angrily  arguing  with  someone.  "  I  could  be 
as  attractive,  as  *  feminine,'  as  silly  as  anyone  else,  if 
I  chose!  I  could  have  lovers  —  of  course  —  just  like 
other  girls  —  if   it   weren't  " — 

For  what?  At  that  moment  she  hardly  knew.  And 
why  were  her  eyes  filling  with  tears?  She  dashed  them 
indignantly  away. 

But  for  the  first  time,  this  cause,  this  public  cause 
to  which  she  was  pledged  presented  itself  to  her  as  a 
sacrifice  to  be  offered,  a  noble  burden  to  be  borne, 
rather  than  as  something  which  expressed  the  natural 
and  spontaneous  impulse  of  her  life. 

Which  meant  that,  already,  since  her  recapture  by 
this  English  world,  since  what  was  hearsay  had  begun 


Delia  Blanchflower  147 

to  be  experience,  the  value  of  things  had  slightly  and 
imperceptibly  changed. 

The  da^^s  ran  on.  One  evening,  just  before  the  first 
of  the  "  Daughters'  "  meetings,  which  was  to  be  held  at 
Latchford,  Winnington  appeared  in  Lady  Tonbridge's 
drawing-room  to  ask  for  a  cup  of  tea  on  his  way  to  a 
public   dinner  in   Wanchester. 

He  seemed  pre-occupied  and  worried ;  and  she  fed  him 
before  questioning  him.     But  at  last  she  said  — 

"  You  couldn't  prevail  on  her  to  give  up  any  of  these 
performances  ?  " 

"  Miss  Delia?  Not  one.  But  it's  only  the  Latchford 
one  that  matters.     Have  3^ou  been  talking  to  her.?" 

He  looked  at  her  a  little  plaintively,  as  though  he 
could  have  reminded  her  that  she  had  promised  him  a 
friend's  assistance. 

"  Of  course !  But  I  might  as  well  talk  to  this  table. 
She  won't  really  make  friends  —  nor  will  Miss  Marvell 
allow  her.  It's  the  same,  I  find,  with  everyone  else. 
However,  I'm  bound  to  sa}^  the  neighbourhood  is  just 
now  in  the  mood  that  it  doesn't  much  want  to  make 
friends !  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Winnington,  with  a  sigh  —  relapsing 
into  silence. 

"  Is  she  taking  an  interest  in  the  property  —  the 
cottages.''  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  sure  she  meant  to.  But  it  seems  to  be  all 
dropped." 

"  Provoking !  "  said  Madeleine,  drily  — "  considering 
how  you've  been  slaving  to  please  her  — " 

Winnington  interrupted  —  not  without  annoyance  — 

"  How  can  she  think  of  anything  else  when  she's  once 


148  Delia  Blanchflower 

deep  In  this  campaign?  One  must  blame  the  people 
who  led  her  into  it !  " 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know !  "  said  Lady  Tonbridge,  pro- 
testing. "  She's  a  very  clever  young  woman,  with  a 
strong  will  of  her  own." 

"  Captured  just  at  the  impressionable  moment !  "  cried 
Winnington  — "  when  a  girl  will  do  anything  —  believe 
anything  —  for  the  person  she  loves  !  " 

"  Well  the  prescription  should  be  easy  —  at  her  age. 
Change  the  person  1  But  then  comes  the  question:  Is 
she  loveable?     Speak  the  truth,  Mr.  Guardian!" 

Winnington  began  a  rather  eager  assent.  Watch  her 
with  the  servants,  the  gardeners,  the  animals!  Then 
you  perceived  what  should  be  the  girl's  natural  charm 
and  sweetness  — 

"  'Hm.     Does  she  show  any  of  it  to  you?  " 

Winnington  laughed. 

"  You  forget  —  I  am  always  there  as  the  obstacle 
in  the  path.  But  if  it  weren't  for  the  sinister  influence 
—  in  the  background." 

And  again  he  went  off  at  score  —  describing  various 
small  incidents  that  had  touched  or  pleased  him,  as 
throwing  light  upon  what  he  vowed  was  the  real  Delia. 

Madeleine  listened,  watching  him  attentively  the  while. 
When  he  took  his  leave  and  she  was  alone,  she  sat  think- 
ing for  some  time,  and  then  going  to  a  cupboard  in  her 
writing-table,  which  held  her  diaries  of  past  years,  she 
rummaged  till  she  found  one  bearing  a  date  fifteen  years 
old.     She  turned  up  the  entry  for  the  sixteenth  of  May : 

"  She  died  last  night.  This  morning,  at  early  service, 
Mark  was  there.  We  walked  home  together.  I  doubt 
whether  he  will  ever  marry  —  now.  He  is  not  one  of 
those  men  who  are  hurried  by  the  mere  emotion  and  un- 


Delia  Blanchflower  149 

bearableness  of  grief,  into  a  fresh  emotion  of  love.     But 
what  a  lover  —  what  a  husband  lost !  " 

She  closed  the  book,  and  stood  with  it  in  her  hand  — 
pondering. 

As  he  left  her  house,  and  turned  towards  the  station 
Winnington  passed  a  lady  to  whom  he  bowed,  recognis- 
ing her  as  Miss  Andrews. 

"  Hope  you've  got  an  umbrella ! "  he  said  to  her 
cheerily,  as  he  passed.     "  The  rain's  coming !  " 

She  smiled,  pleased  Hke  all  the  world  to  be  addressed 
with  that  Winningtonian  manner  which  somehow  im- 
plied that  the  person  addressed  was,  for  the  moment 
at  any  rate,  his  chiefest  concern.  Immediately  after 
meeting  him  she  turned  from  the  village  street,  and  be- 
gan to  mount  a  lane  leading  to  the  slope  on  which  Monk 
Lawrence  stood.  Her  expression  as  she  walked  along, 
sometimes  with  moving  lips,  had  grown  animated  and 
sarcastic.  Here  were  two  men,  a  dead  father  and  a 
live  guardian,  trying  to  coerce  one  simple  girl  —  and 
apparently  not  making  much  of  a  job  of  it.  She  gloried 
in  what  she  had  been  told  or  perceived  of  Delia  Blanch- 
flower's  wilfulness,  which  seemed  to  her  mother  and  her 
brother  the  Captain  so  monstrous.  Only  —  could  one 
entirely  tnist  anybody  like  Delia  Blanchflower  —  so 
prosperous  —  and  so  good-looking? 

Miss  Andrews  mounted  the  hill,  passed  through  a 
wood  that  ran  along  its  crest,  and  took  a  footpath, 
leading  past  the  edge  of  a  railway  cutting,  from  which 
the  wonderful  old  house  could  be  plainly  seen.  She 
paused  several  times  to  look  at  it,  wrapped  in  a  kind  of 
day-dream,  which  gave  a  growing  sombreness  to  her 
harsh  and  melancholy  features.     Beyond  the  footpath  a 


150  Delia  Blanchflower 

swing  gate  opened  into  a  private  path  leading  to  the 
house. 

She  opened  the  gate,  and  walked  a  little  way  up  the 
path,  in  the  fast  gathering  darkness.  But  she  was 
suddenly  arrested  by  the  appearance  of  a  figure  in  the 
far  distance,  black  against  the  pale  greys  of  the  house. 
It  was  a  policeman  on  his  beat  —  she  caught  one  of  the 
gleams  of  a  lantern. 

Instantly  she  turned  back,  groped  her  way  again 
through  the  wood,  and  into  a  side  road  leading  to  her 
brother's  house. 

She  found  her  mother  lying  on  the  sofa  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, the  remains  of  a  rather  luxurious  tea  beside 
her  —  her  outdoor  clothes  l^^ing  untidily  about  the  room. 

"Where  have  you  been?"  said  Mrs.  Andrews,  fret- 
fully — "  there  were  several  letters  I  wanted  written  be- 
fore post." 

"  I  wanted  a  little  air.  That  linen  business  took  me 
all  the  morning." 

For  it  was  the  rule  in  the  Andrews'  household  that 
the  house  linen  should  be  gone  through  every  six  months 
with  a  view  to  repairs  and  renewals.  It  was  a  tedious 
business.  Mrs.  Andrews'  nerves  did  not  allow  her  to 
undertake  it.  It  fell  therefore,  and  had  always  fallen 
to  the  only  daughter,  who  was  not  made  for  housewifery 
tasks,  and  detested  the  half-yearly  linen  day  accordingly. 

Her  tone  displeased  her  mother. 

"  There  you  are  —  grumbling  again,  Marion !  What 
else  have  you  to  do,  I  should  like  to  know,  than  your 
home  duties.''  " 

Marion  made  no  reply.  What  was  the  use  of  reply- 
ing,'' But  her  black  eyes,  as  she  helped  herself  wearily 
to  some  very  cold  tea,  took  note  of  her  mother's  attitude. 


Delia  Blanchflower  151 

It  was  only  the  week  before  that  Dr.  France  had  ex- 
pressed himself  rather  pointedly  to  the  eiFect  that  more 
exercise  and  some  fresh  interests  in  life  "  would  be  good 
for  Mrs.  Andrews." 

Mrs.  Andrews  returned  to  the  ladies'  paper  she  was 
reading.  The  fashion  plates  for  the  week  were  un- 
usually attractive.     Marion   observed  her  unseen. 

Suddenly  the  daughter  said:  — 

"  I  must  ask  you  for  that  five  pounds,  mother.  Bill 
promised  it  me.  M}'  underclothing  is  literally  in  rags. 
I've  done  my  best,  and  it's  past  mending.  And  I  must 
have  another  decent  dress." 

"  There  you  arc, —  clamouring  for  monej^  again  " — 
said  her  mother,  bouncing  up  on  the  sofa  — "  when  you 
know  how  hard-pressed  Bill  is.  He's  got  another  in- 
stalment to  pay  for  the  motor  the  end  of  this  week." 

"  Yes  —  the  motor  you  made  him  get !  " —  said 
Marion,  as  though  the  words  burst  from  her. 

"  And  why  shouldn't  he,  pray !  The  money's  his  — 
and  mine.  It  was  high  time  we  got  rid  of  that  rattle- 
trap.    It  jolted  me  to  pieces." 

"  You  said  a  little  while  ago  It  would  do  ver}'  well 
for  another  year.  An3^way,  Bill  promised  me  something 
for  clothes  this  month  —  and  he  also  said  that  he'd  pay 
my  school  of  art  fees,  at  Wanchester,  and  give  me  a 
third  season  ticket.     Is  that  all  done  with  too  ?  " 

The  girl  sat  erect,  her  face  with  its  sparkling  eyes 
expressing  mingled  humiliation  and  bitterness. 

"  Oh,  well  really,  I  can't  stand  these  constant  dis- 
putes !  "  said  Mrs.  Andrews,  rising  angrily  from  the  sofa. 
"  You'd  better  go  to  your  brother.  If  he  likes  to  waste 
his  money,  he  can  of  course.  But  I've  got  none  to 
spare."     She  paused  at  the  door  — "  As  for  your  under- 


152  Delia  Blanchflower 

clothing,  I  daresay  I  could  find  you  something  of  mine 
you  could  make  do  for  a  bit.  Now  do  be  sensible !  — 
and  don't  make  a  scene  with  Bill !  " 

She  closed  the  door.  Marion  walked  to  the  side 
window  of  the  drawing-room,  and  stood  looking  at  the 
wooded  slope  of  the  hill,  with  Monk  Lawrence  in  the 
distance. 

Her  heart  burned  within  her.  She  was  thirty-four. 
She  had  never  had  any  money  of  her  own  —  she  had 
never  been  allowed  any  education  that  would  fit  her  to 
earn.  She  was  absolutely  dependent  on  her  mother  and 
brother.  Bill  was  kind  enough,  though  careless,  and 
often  selfish.  But  her  mother  rubbed  her  dependence 
into  her  at  every  turn  — "  And  yet  I  earn  my  clothes  and 
my  keep  —  every  penn}'  of  them  !  "  she  thought,  fiercely. 

A  year  before  this  date  she  had  been  staying  in  Lon- 
don with  a  cousin  who  sometimes  took  pity  on  her  and 
gave  her  a  change  of  scene.  They  had  gone  together 
for  curiosity's  sake  to  a  "  militant  "  meeting  in  London. 
A  lady,  slight  in  figure,  with  dark  eyes  and  hair,  had 
spoken  on  the  "  economic  independence  of  women  " — 
as  the  only  path  to  the  woman's  goal  of  "  equal  rights  " 
with  men.  She  had  spoken  with  passion,  and  Marion's 
sore  heart  had  leapt  to  answer  her. 

That  lady  was  Gertrude  Marvell.  INIarion  had  writ- 
ten to  her,  and  there  had  been  a  brief  acquaintance, 
enough  to  kindle  the  long-repressed  will  and  passion  of 
the  girl's  stormy  nature.  She  had  returned  home,  to 
read,  in  secret,  everything  that  she  could  find  on  the 
militant  movement.  The  sheer  violence  of  it  appealed 
to  her  like  water  to  the  thirsty.  War,  war !  —  on 
a  rotten  state  of  society,  and  the  economic  slavery  of 
women ! 

And  now  her  first  aAvakener,  her  appointed  leader,  her 


Delia  Blanchflower  153 

idol  had  appeared  in  this  dead  country-side,  with  orders 
to  give,  and  tasks  to  impose.  And  she  should  be  obeyed 
—  to  the  letter ! 

The  girl's  heavy  eyes  kindled  to  a  mad  intensity,  as 
she  stood  looking  at  the  hill-side,  now  almost  dark,  ex- 
cept for  that  distant  light,  which  she  knew  as  the  elec- 
tric lamp  still  lit  at  sunset,  even  in  Sir  Wilfrid's  absence, 
over  the  stately  doorway  of  Monk  Lawrence. 

But  she  was  not  going  to  the  Latchford  meeting. 
*'  Don't  give  yourself  away.  Don't  be  seen  with  the 
others.  Keep  out  of  notice.  There  are  more  important 
things  for  you  to  do  —  presently.     Wait !  " 

The  words  echoed  in  her  ears.  She  waited ;  exulting 
in  the  thought  that  no  one,  not  even  Miss  Blanchflower, 
knew  as  much  as  she;  and  that  neither  her  mother  nor 
her  brother  had  as  yet  any  idea  of  her  connection  with 
the  "  Daughters."  Her  "  silly  suff'rage  opinions  "  were 
laughed  at  by  them  both  —  good-humouredly,  by  Bill. 
Of  the  rest,  they  knew  nothing. 


Chapter  IX 

'*T\/TARK!  you've  done  the  day's  work  of  two  peo- 

1  ▼  A  pie  already ! "  cried  Mrs.  Matheson  in  a  tone 
of  distress.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  in  to 
Latchford  again?  —  and  without  waiting  for  some 
food?" 

She  stood  under  the  porch  of  Bridge  End  remon- 
strating with  her  brother. 

"  Can't  be  helped,  dear ! "  said  Winnington,  as  he 
filled  his  pipe  — "  I'm  certain  there'll  be  a  row  to-night, 
and  I  must  catch  this  train !  " 

"What,  that  horrid  meeting!  Delia  Blanchflower 
lets  you  slave  and  slave  for  her,  and  never  takes  the 
smallest  notice  of  your  wishes  or  your  advice!  She 
ought  to  be  ashamed !  " 

The  sister's  mild  tone  trembled  with  indignation. 

"  She  isn't !  "  laughed  Winnington.  "  I  never  knew 
anyone  less  so.  But  we  can't  have  her  ill  treated. 
Expect  me  back  when  you  see  me !  " 

And  kissing  his  hand  to  his  sister,  he  went  out  into 
a  dark  and  blustering  evening.  Something  had  just 
gone  wrong  Avith  the  little  motor  car  he  generally  drove 
himself,  and  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  walk  the 
mile  and  a  half  to  the  railway  station. 

He  had  spent  the  whole  day  in  County  Council  busi- 
ness at  Wanchester,  was  tired  out,  and  had  now  been 
obliged  to  leave  home  again  without  waiting  even  for  a 
belated  cup  of  tea.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it.  He 
had  only  just  time  to  catch  the  Latchford  train. 

154 


Delia  Blanchflower  155 

As  he  almost  ran  to  the  station  he  was  not  conscious 
however  of  an}^  of  these  small  discomforts ;  his  mind 
was  full  of  Delia.  He  did  not  encourage  anyone  but 
Madeleine  Tonbridge  to  talk  to  him  about  his  ward; 
but  he  was  already  quite  aware,  before  his  old  friend 
laid  stress  on  it,  of  the  hostile  feeling  towards  Delia 
and  her  chaperon  that  was  beginning  to  show  itself  in 
the  neighbourhood.  He  knew  that  she  was  already 
pronounced  heartless,  odious,  unprincipled,  consumed 
with  a  love  of  notoriety,  and  ready  for  any  violence,  at 
the  bidding  of  a  woman  who  was  probably  responsible 
at  that  very  moment  —  as  a  prominent  organiser  in 
the  employ  of  the  society  contriving  them  —  for  some 
of  the  worst  of  tlie  militant  outrages.  His  condemna- 
tion of  Delia's  actions  was  sharp  and  unhesitating;  his 
opinion  of  Miss  Marvell  not  a  whit  milder  than  that  of 
his  neighbours.  Yet  he  had  begun,  as  we  have  seen,  to 
discover  in  himself  a  willingness,  indeed  an  eagerness 
to  excuse  and  pity  the  girl,  which  was  wholly  lacking 
in  the  case  of  the  older  woman.  Under  the  influence, 
indeed,  of  his  own  responsive  temperament,  Winnington 
was  rapidly  drifting  into  a  state  of  feeling  where  his 
perception  of  Delia's  folly  and  unreason  was  almost 
immediately  checked  by  some  enchanting  memory  of  her 
beauty,  or  of  those  rare  moments  in  their  brief  ac- 
quaintance, when  the  horrid  shadow  of  the  "  Move- 
ment "  had  been  temporarily  lifted,  and  he  had  seen 
her,  as  in  his  indulgent  belief  she  truly  was  —  or  was 
meant  to  be.  She  flouted  and  crossed  him  perpetually ; 
and  he  was  beginning  to  discover  that  he  only  thought 
of  her  the  more,  and  that  the  few  occasions  when  he 
had  been  able  to  force  a  smile  out  of  her, —  a  sudden 
softness  in  her  black  eyes,  gone  in  a  moment !  —  were 
constantly  pleading  for  her  in  his  mind.     All  part  no 


156  Delia  Blanchflower 

doubt  of  his  native  and  extreme  susceptibility  to  the 
female  race  —  the  female  race  in  general.  For  he  could 
see  himself,  and  laugh  at  himself,  ab  extra,  better  than 
most  men. 

At  the  station  he  came  across  Captain  Andrews,  and 
soon  discovered  from  that  artless  warrior  that  he  also 
was  bound  for  Latchford,  with  a  view  to  watching  over 
Delia  Blanchflower. 

"  Can't  have  a  lot  of  hooligans  attacking  a  good- 
looking  girl  like  that  —  whatever  nonsense  she  talks  !  '* 
murmured  the  Captain,  twisting  his  sandy  moustache; 
"  so  I  thought  I'd  better  come  along  and  see  fair  play. 
Of  course  I  knew  you'd  be  there." 

The  train  was  crowded.  Winnington,  separated 
from  the  Captain,  plunged  into  a  dimly-lighted  third 
class,  and  found  himself  treading  on  the  toes  of  an 
acquaintance.  He  saluted  an  elderly  lady  wearing  a 
bonnet  and  mantle  of  primeval  cut,  and  a  dress  so 
ample  in  the  skirt  that  it  still  suggested  the  days  of  crin- 
oline. She  was  abnoraially  tall,  and  awkwardly  built; 
she  wore  cotton  gloves,  and  her  boots  were  those  of  a 
peasant.  She  carried  a  large  bag  or  reticule,  and  her 
lap  was  piled  with  brown  parcels.  Her  large  thin  face 
was  crowned  by  a  few  straggling  locks  of  what  had  once 
been  auburn  hair,  now  nearly  grey,  the  pale  spectacled 
eyes  were  deeply  wrinkled,  and  the  nose  and  mouth 
slightly  but  indisputably  crooked. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Dempsey !  —  what  an  age  since  we 
met!  Where  are  you  off  to?  Give  me  some  of  those 
parcels !  " 

And  Winnington,  seizing  what  he  could  lay  hands  on, 
transferred  them  to  his  own  knees,  and  gave  a  cordial 
grip  to  the  right  hand  cotton  glove. 

Miss  Dempsey  replied  that  she  had  been  in  Brown- 


Delia  Blanchflower  157 

mouth  for  the  da}^,  and  was  going  home.  After  Avhich 
she  smiled  and  said  abruptly,  bending  across  her  still 
laden  knees  and  his  —  so  as  to  speak  unheard  by  their 
neighbours  — 

"  Of  course  I  know  where  you're  going  to ! " 

"Do  you?" 

The  queer  head  nodded. 

"  Why  can't  you  keep  her  in  order?  " 

"Her?     Who?" 

"Your  ward.     Why  don't  you  stop  it?  " 

"  Stop  these  meetings  ?  My  ward  is  of  age,  please 
remember,  and  quite  aware  of  it." 

Miss  Dempsey  sighed. 

"  Naughty  young  woman ! "  she  said,  yet  with  the 
gentlest  of  accents.  "For  us  of  the  elder  generation 
to  see  our  work  all  undone  by  these  maniacs !  They 
have  dashed  the  cup  from  our  very  lips." 

"  Ah !  I  forgot  you  were  a  Suffragist,"  said  Win- 
nington,  smiling  at  her. 

"  Suffragist  ?  "  she  held  up  her  head  indignantly  — 
"  I  should  rather  think  I  am.  My  parents  were  friends 
of  Mill,  and  I  heard  him  speak  for  Woman  Suffrage 
when  I  was  quite  a  child.  And  now,  after  the  years 
we've  toiled  and  moiled,  to  see  these  mad  women  wreck- 
ing the  whole  thing !  " 

Winnington  assented  gravely. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  feel  it  so.  But  you  still  want 
it  —  the  vote  —  as  much  as  ever  ?  " 

"  Yes ! "  she  said,  at  first  with  energy ;  and  then  on 
a  more  wavering  note  — "  Yes, —  but  I  admit  a  great 
many  things  have  been  done  without  it  that  I  thought 
couldn't  have  been  done.  And  these  wild  women  give 
one  to  think.  But  you?  Are  you  against  us?  —  or 
has  Miss  Deha  converted  you?" 


158 


Delia  Blanchflower 


He  smiled  again,  but  without  answering  her  ques- 
tion.    Instead,  he  asked  her  in  a  guarded  voice  — 

"  You  are  as  busy  as  ever?  " 

"  I  am  there  always  —  just  as  usual.  I  don't  have 
much  success.     It  doesn't  matter." 

She  drew  back  from  him,  looking  quietly  out  of 
window  at  the  autumn  fields.  Over  her  wrinkled  face 
with  its  crooked  features,  there  dawned  a  look  of  strange 
intensity,  mingled  very  faintly  with  something  exquisite 
—  a  ray  from  a  spiritual  world. 

Winnington  looked  at  her  with  reverence.  He  knew 
all  about  her ;  so  did  many  of  the  dwellers  in  the  Maum- 
sey  neighbourhood.  She  had  lived  for  half-a-century 
in  the  same  little  house  in  one  of  the  back-streets  of 
Latchford,  a  town  of  some  ten  thousand  inhabitants. 
Through  all  that  time  her  life  had  been  given  to  what 
is  called  "  rescue  work  " —  though  she  herself  rarely 
called  it  by  that  name.  She  loved  those  whom  no  one 
else  would  love  —  the  meanest  and  feeblest  of  the  out- 
cast race.  Every  night  her  door  stood  on  the  latch, 
and  as  the  years  passed,  thousands  knew  it.  Scarcely 
a  week  went  by,  that  some  hand  did  not  lift  that  latch, 
and  some  girl  in  her  first  trouble,  or  some  street-walker, 
dying  of  her  trade,  did  not  step  in  to  the  tiny  hall  where 
the  lamp  burnt  all  night,  and  wait  for  the  sound  of  the 
descending  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  which  meant  shelter 
and  pity,  warmth  and  food.  She  was  constantly  de- 
ceived, sometimes  robbed;  for  such  things  she  had  no 
memory.  She  only  remembered  the  things  which  can- 
not be  told  —  the  trembling  voices  of  hope  or  returning 
joy  —  the  tenderness  in  dying  eyes,  the  clinging  of 
weak  hands,  the  kindness  of  "  her  poor  children."  She 
had  written  —  without  her  name  —  a  book  describing 
the  condition  of  a  great  seaport  town  where  she  had 


Delia  Blanchflower  i  ^  9 

once  lived.  The  facts  recorded  in  it  had  inspired  a 
great  refomiing  Act.  No  one  knew  anything  of  her 
part  in  it  —  so  far  as  the  public  was  concerned.  Many 
persons  indeed  came  to  consult  her ;  she  gave  all  her 
knowledge  to  those  who  wanted  it ;  she  taught,  and  she 
counselled,  always  as  one  who  felt  herself  the  mere 
humble  mouthpiece  of  things  divine  and  compelling ;  and 
those  who  went  away  enriched  did  indeed  forget  her 
in  her  message,  as  she  meant  them  to  do.  But  in  her 
own  town  as  she  passed  along  the  streets,  in  her  queer 
garb,  blinking  and  absently  smiling  as  though  at  her 
own  thoughts,  she  was  greeted  often  with  a  peculiar 
reverence,  a  homage  of  which  her  short  sight  told  her 
little  or  nothing. 

Winnington  especially  had  applied  to  her  in  more 
than  one  difficulty  connected  with  his  public  work.  It 
was  to  her  he  had  gone  at  once  when  the  Blanchflower 
agent  had  come  to  him  in  dismay  reporting  the  decision 
of  Miss  Blanchflower  with  regard  to  the  half-witted 
girl  whose  third  illegitimate  child  by  a  quite  uncertain 
father  had  finally  proved  her  need  of  protection  both 
from  men's  vilencss,  and  her  own  helplessness.  Miss 
Dcmpsey  had  taken  the  girl  first  into  her  own  house, 
and  then,  persuading  and  comforting  the  old  father, 
had  placed  her  in  one  of  the  Homes  where  such  victims 
are  sheltered. 

Winnington  briefly  enquired  after  the  girl.  She  as 
briefly  replied.  Then  she  added :  —  as  other  travellers 
got  out  and  thc}^  were  left  to  themselves. 

"  So  Miss  Blanchflower  wanted  to  keep  her  in  the 
village.?  " 

Winnington  nodded,  adding  — 

"  She  of  course  had  no  idea  of  the  real  facts." 

«No.     Why    should    she?— -Whi/    sliould    she!—" 


i6o  Delia  Blanchflower 

the  old  lips  repeated  with  passion.  *'  Let  her  keep  her 
3^outh  while  she  can !  It's  so  strange  to  me  —  how 
they  will  throw  away  their  youth!  Some  of  us  must 
know.  The  black  ox  has  trodden  on  us.  A  woman  of 
thirty  must  look  at  it  all.  But  a  girl  of  twenty ! 
Doesn't  she  see  that  she  helps  the  world  more  by  not 
knowing!  —  that  her  mere  unconsciousness  is  our  gain 
—  our  refreshment." 

The  face  of  the  man  sitting  opposite  her,  reflected 
I'.er  own  feeling. 

"  You  and  I  always  agree,"  he  said  warmly.  "  I 
wish  you'd  make  friends  with  her." 

"  Who  ?  Miss  Blanchflower  ?  What  could  she  make 
out  of  an  old  stager  like  me !  "  Miss  Dempsey's  face 
broke  into  amusement  at  the  notion.  "  And  I  don't 
know  that  I  could  keep  my  temper  with  a  militant. 
Well  now  you're  going  to  hear  her  speak  —  and  here 
Ave  are." 

Winnington  and  Captain  Andrews  left  the  station 
together.  Latchford  owned  a  rather  famous  market, 
and  market  day  brought  always  a  throng  of  country 
folk  into  the  little  town.  A  multitude  of  booths  under 
flaring  gas  jets  —  for  darkness  had  just  fallen  —  held 
one  side  of  the  square,  and  the  other  was  given  up  to 
the  hurdles  which  penned  the  sheep  and  cattle,  and  to 
their  attendant  groups  of  farmers  and  drovers. 

The  market  place  was  full  of  people,  but  the  crowd 
which  filled  it  was  not  an  ordinary  market-day  crowd. 
The  cattle  and  sheep  indeed  had  long  since  gone  off^ 
with  their  new  owners  or  departed  homeward  unsold. 
The  booths  were  most  of  them  either  taken  down  or 
were  in  process  of  being  dismantled.  For  the  evening 
was  falling  fast ;  it  was  spitting  with  rain ;  and  business 


Delia  Blanchflower  l6i 

was  over.  But  the  shop  windows  in  the  market-place 
were  still  brilliantly  lit,  and  from  the  windows  of  the 
Crown  Inn,  all  tenanted  by  spectators,  light  streamed 
out  on  the  crowd  below.  The  chief  illumination  came 
however  from  what  seemed  to  be  a  large  shaEow  waggon 
drawn  up  not  far  from  the  Crown.  Three  people  stood 
in  it ;  a  man  —  who  was  speaking  —  and  two  women. 
From  either  side,  a  couple  of  motor  lamps  of  great 
brilliance  concentrated  upon  them  threw  their  faces 
and  figures  into  harsh  relief. 

The  crowd  was  steadily  pressing  toward  the  waggon, 
and  it  was  evident  at  once  to  Winnington  and  his  com- 
panion that  it  was  not  a  friendly  crowd. 

"  Looks  rather  ugly,  to  me !  "  said  Andrews  in  Win- 
nington's  ear.  "  They've  got  hold  of  that  thing  which 
happened  at  Wanchester  yesterday,  of  the  burning  of 
that  house  where  tlie  care-taker  and  his  children  only 
just  escaped." 

A  rush  of  lads  and  young  men  passed  them  as  he 
spoke  —  shouting  — 

"  Pull  'em  down  —  turn  'em  out !  " 

Andrews  and  Winnington  pursued,  but  were  soon 
forced  back  by  a  retreating  movement  of  those  in  front. 
Winnington's  height  enabled  him  to  see  over  the  heads 
of  the  crowd. 

"  The  police  are  keeping  a  ring,"  he  reported  to  his 
companion  — "  they  seem  to  have  got  it  in  hand  !  Ah ! 
now  they've  seen  me  —  they'll  let  us  through." 

Meanwhile  the  shouts  and  booing  of  the  hostile  por- 
tion of  the  audience  —  just  augmented  by  a  number  of 
rough-looking  men  from  the  neighbouring  brickfields  — 
prevented  most  of  the  remarks  delivered  by  the  male 
speaker  on  the  cart  from  reaching  the  audience. 

"  Cowards  !  "  said  an  excited  woman's  voice  — "  that's 


l62  Delia  Blanchfiower 

all  they  can  do  !  —  howl  like  wild  beasts  —  that's  all 
they're  fit  for !  " 

Winnington  turned  to  see  a  tall  girl,  carrying  an 
armful  of  newspapers.  She  had  flaming  red  hair,  and 
she  wore  a  black  and  orange  scarf,  with  a  cap  of  the 
same  colours.  "  Foster's  daughter,"  he  thought,  won- 
dering. "  What  happens  to  them  all !  "  For  he  had 
known  Kitty  Foster  from  her  school  days,  and  had 
never  thought  of  her  except  as  a  silly  simpering  flirt, 
bent  on  the  pursuit  of  man.  And  now  he  beheld  a 
maenad,  a  fury. 

Suddenly  another  woman's  voice  cut  across  the 
others  — 

"  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  those  colours !  Go  home 
—  and  take  them  off^.  Go  home  and  behave  like  a 
decent  creature !  " 

Heads  were  turned  —  to  see  a  middle-aged  woman 
of  quiet  dress  and  commanding  aspect,  sternly  pointing 
to  the  astonished  Kitty  Foster.  "  Do  you  see  that 
girl?" — the  woman  continued,  addressing  her  neigh- 
bours,— "  she's  got  the  '  Daughters' '  colours  on.  Do 
3'ou  know  what  the  Daughters  have  been  doing  in  town  ? 
You've  seen  about  the  destroying  of  letters  in  London. 
Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  tliat  means.  I  had  a  little 
servant  I  was  very  fond  of.  She  left  me  to  go  and  live 
near  her  sister  in  town.  The  sister  died,  and  she  got 
consumption.  She  went  into  lodgings,  and  there  was 
no  one  to  help  her.  She  wrote  to  me,  asking  me  to 
come  to  her.  Her  letter  was  destroyed  in  one  of 
the  pillar-boxes  raided  —  by  those  women  — ^"  She 
pointed.  "  Then  she  broke  her  heart  because  she 
thought  I'd  given  her  up.  She  daren't  write  again. 
And   now   I've    found   her   out  —  in   hospital  —  dying. 


Delia  Blanchflower  163 

I've  seen  her  to-day.  If  it  hadn't  have  been  for  these 
demented  creatures  she  might  ha'  hved  for  years." 

The  woman  paused,  her  voice  breaking  a  little. 
Kitty  Foster  tossed  her  head. 

"What  are  most  women  in  hospital  for?"  she  said, 
shrilly.  "  By  the  fault  of  men !  —  one  way  or  the 
other.     That's  what  we  think  of." 

"  Yes  I  know  —  that's  one  of  the  shameless  things 
you  say  —  to  us  who  have  husbands  and  sons  we  thank 
God  for !  "  said  the  elder  woman,  quivering.  "  Go  and 
get  a  husband !  —  if  you  can  find  one  to  put  up  with 
you,  and  hold  your  tongue !  "     She  turned  her  back. 

The  girl  laughed  affectedly. 

"  I  can  do  without  one,  thank  you.  It's  you  happy 
married  women  that  are  the  chief  obstacle  in  our  path. 
Selfish  things !  —  never  care  for  anybody  but  j'our- 
selves !  " 

"  Hallo  —  Lathrop's  down  —  that's  Miss  Blanch- 
flower  !  "  said  Andrews,  excitedly.     "  Let's  go  on !  " 

And  at  the  same  moment  a  mounted  constable,  who 
had  been  steadily  making  his  way  to  them,  opened  a 
way  for  the  two  J.P.'s  through  the  crowd,  which  after 
the  tumult  of  hooting  mingled  with  a  small  amount  of 
applause,  which  had  greeted  Lathrop's  peroration,  had 
relapsed  into  sudden  silence  as  Delia  Blanchflower  came 
forward,  so  that  her  opening  words,  in  a  rich  clear  voice 
were  audible  over  a  large  area  of  the  market-place. 

What  did  she  say.^*  Certainly  nothing  new!  Win- 
nington  knew  it  all  by  heart  —  had  read  it  dozens  of 
times  in  their  strident  newspaper,  which  he  now  perused 
wcekl}',  simply  that  he  might  discover  if  he  could,  what 
projects  his  ward  might  be  up  to. 


164 


Delia  Blanchflower 


The  wrongs  of  women,  their  wrongs  as  citizens,  as 
wives,  as  the  victims  of  men,  as  the  "  refuse  of  the  fac- 
tory system  " —  Winnington  remembered  the  phrase  in 
the  Tocsin  of  the  week  before  —  the  uselessness  of  con- 
stitutional agitation  —  the  need  "  to  shake  England  to 
make  her  hear  " —  it  was  all  the  "  common  form  "  of 
the  Movement ;  and  yet  she  was  able  to  infuse  it  with 
passion,  with  conviction,  with  a  wild  and  natural  elo- 
quence. Her  voice  stole  upon  him  —  hypnotized  him. 
His  political  and  economic  knowledge  told  him  that  half 
the  things  she  said  were  untrue,  and  the  rest  irrelevant. 
His  moral  sense  revolted  against  her  violence  —  her 
defence  of  violence.  A  girl  of  twenty-one  addressing 
this  ugly,  indifferent  crowd,  and  talking  calmly  of 
stone-throwing  and  arson,  as  though  they  were  occu- 
pations as  natural  to  her  youth  as  dancing  or  love- 
making  !  —  the  whole  thing  was  abhorrent  —  prepos- 
terous —  to  a  man  of  order  and  peace.  And  yet  he 
had  never  been  more  stirred,  more  conscious  of  the  mad, 
mixed  poetry  of  life,  than  he  was,  as  he  stood  watching 
the  slender  figure  on  the  waggon  —  the  gestures  of  the 
upraised  arm,  and  the  play  of  the  lights  from  the  hotel, 
and  from  the  side  lamps,  now  on  the  deep  white  collar 
that  lightened  her  serge  jacket,  and  on  the  gesticulating 
hand,  or  the  face  that  even  in  these  disfiguring  cross- 
lights  could  be  nothing  else  than  lovely. 

She  was  speaking  too  long  —  a  common  fault  of 
women. 

He  looked  from  her  to  the  faces  of  the  crowd,  and 
saw  that  the  spell,  compounded  partly  of  the  speaker's 
good  looks  and  partly  of  sheer  gaping  curiosity,  was 
breaking.  They  were  getting  restless,  beginning  to 
heckle  and  laugh. 

Then  he  heard  her  say. 


Delia  Blanchflower  165 

"  Of  course  we  know  —  you  think  us  fools  —  silly 
fools  !  You  say  it's  a  poor  sort  of  fighting  —  and  what 
do  we  hope  to  get  by  it?  Pin-pricks  you  call  it  —  all 
that  women  can  do.  Well,  so  it  is  —  we  admit  it. 
It  is  a  poor  sort  of  fighting  —  we  don't  admire  it  any 
more  than  j^ou.  But  it's  all  men  have  left  to  women. 
You  have  disarmed  us  —  and  fooled  us  —  and  made 
slaves  of  us.  You  won't  allow  us  the  constitutional 
weapon  of  the  vote,  so  we  strike  as  we  can,  and  with 
what  weapons  we  can " 

"  Makin'  bonfires  of  innercent  people  an'  their 
property,  ain't  politics,  Miss !  "  shouted  a  voice. 

"  Hear,  Hear ! "  from  the  crowd. 

"  We  haven't  killed  anybody  —  but  ourselves  !  " 
The  answer  flashed. 

"  Pretty  near  it !  Them  folks  at  Wanchester  only 
just  got  out  —  an'  there  were  two  children  among  'em," 
cried  a  man  near  the  waggon. 

"An'  they've  just  been  up  to  something  new  at 
Brownmouth " 

All  heads  turned  towards  a  young  man  who  spoke 
from  the  back  of  the  audience.  "  News  just  come  to 
the  post-office,"  he  shouted  — "  as  the  new  pier  was 
burnt  out  earl}^  this  morning.  There's  a  bit  o'  wanton 
mischief  for  you  !  " 

A  howl  of  wrath  rose  from  the  audience,  amid  which 
the  closing  words  of  Delia's  speech  were  lost.  Win- 
nington  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  face  —  pale  and  ex- 
cited —  as  she  retreated  from  the  front  of  the  waggon 
in  order  to  make  room  for  her  co-speaker. 

Gertrude  Marvell,  as  Winnington  soon  saw,  was  far 
more  skilled  in  street  oratory  than  her  pupil.  By 
sheer  audacity  she  caught  her  audience  at  once,  and 
very    soon,    mingling   defiance    with    sarcasm,    she    had 


i66  Delia  Blanchflower 

turned  the  news  of  the  burnt  pier  into  a  Suffragist 
parable.  What  was  that  blaze  in  the  night,  lighting 
up  earth  and  sea,  but  an  emblem  of  women's  revolt 
flaming  up  in  the  face  of  dark  injustice  and  oppression? 
Let  them  rage !  The  women  mocked.  All  tyrannies 
disliked  being  disturbed  —  since  the  days  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar. And  thereupon,  without  any  trace  of  excite- 
ment, or  an}^  fraction  of  Delia's  eloquence,  she  built  up 
bit  by  bit,  and  in  face  of  the  growing  hostility  of  the 
crowd,  an  edifice  of  selected  statements,  which  could 
not  have  been  more  adroit.  It  did  not  touch  or  per- 
suade, but  it  silenced ;  till  at  the  end  she  said  —  each 
word  slow  and  distinct  — 

"  Now  —  all  these  things  you  may  do  to  women,  and 
nobody  minds  —  nobody  troubles  at  all.  But  if  we 
make  a  bonfire  of  a  pier,  or  an  empty  house,  by  way  of 
drawing  attention  to  3'our  proceedings,  then,  you  see 
red.  Well,  here  we  are  !  —  do  what  you  like  —  torture, 
imprison  us  !  —  you  are  only  longing,  I  know  —  some 
of  you  —  to  pull  us  down  now  and  trample  on  us,  so 
that  you  may  show  us  how  much  stronger  men  are  than 
women !  All  right !  —  but  where  one  woman  falls,  an- 
other will  spring  up.  And  meanwhile  the  candle  we  are 
lighting  will  go  on  burning  till  you  give  us  the  vote. 
Nothing  simpler  —  nothing  easier.  Give  us  the  vote! 
—  and  send  your  canting  Governments,  Liberal,  or 
Tory,  packing,  till  we  get  it.  But  until  then  —  v/in- 
dows  and  empty  houses,  and  piers  and  such-like,  are 
nothing  —  but  so  many  opportunities  of  making  our 
masters  uncomfortable,  till  the}^  free  their  slaves ! 
Lucky  for  you,  if  the  thing  is  no  worse !  " 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  added  with  sharp 
and  quiet  emphasis  — 


Delia  Blanchflower  167 

"  And  why  is  it  specially  necessary  that  we  should 
try  to  stir  up  this  district  —  whether  you  like  our 
methods  or  whether  you  don't  ?  Because  —  you  have 
living  here  among  you,  one  of  the  worst  of  the  perse- 
cutors of  women !  You  have  here  a  man  who  has  backed 
up  every  cruelty  of  the  Government  —  who  has  denied 
us  every  right,  and  scoffed  at  all  our  constitutional 
demands  —  your  neighbour  and  great  landlord,  Sir 
Wilfrid  Lang!  I  call  upon  every  woman  in  this  dis- 
trict, to  avenge  women  on  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang!  We  are 
not  out  indeed  to  destroy  life  or  limb  • —  we  leave  that 
to  the  men  who  are  trying  to  coerce  women  —  but  we 
mean  to  sweep  men  like  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang  out  of  our 
way!  Meanwhile  we  can  pay  special  attention  to  his 
meetings  —  we  can  harass  him  at  railway  stations  — • 
we  can  sit  on  his  doorstep  —  we  can  put  the  fear  of  God 
into  him  in  a  hundred  ways  —  in  short  we  can  make  his 
life  a  tenth  part  as  disagreeable  to  him  as  he  can 
make  ours  to  us.  We  can,  if  we  please,  make  it  a  bur- 
den to  him  —  and  we  intend  to  do  so  I  And  don't 
let  men  —  or  women  either  —  waste  their  breath  in 
preaching  to  us  of  '  law  and  order.'  Slaves  who  have 
no  part  in  making  the  law,  are  not  bound  by  the  law. 
Enforce  it  if  you  can !  But  while  you  refuse  to  free 
us,  we  despise  both  the  law  and  the  making  of  the  law. 
Justice  —  which  is  a  very  different  thing  from  law  — 
Justice  is  our  mistress !  —  and  to  her  we  appeal." 

Folding  her  arms,  she  looked  the  crowd  in  the  face. 
They  seemed  to  measure  each  other;  on  one  side,  the 
lines  of  upturned  faces,  gaping  youths,  and  smoking 
workmen,  farmers  and  cattlemen,  women  and  children ; 
on  the  other,  defying  them,  one  thin,  neatly-dressed 
woman,  her  face,  under  the  lamps,  a  gleaming  point  in 
the  dark. 


i68  Delia  Blanchflower 

Then  a  voice  rose  from  a  lounging  group  of  men, 
smoking  like  chimneys  —  powerful  fellows ;  smeared 
Avith  the  clay  of  the  brickfields. 

"Who's  a-makin'  slaves  of  j'^ou,  Ma'am?  There's 
most  of  us  workin'  for  a  woman !  " 

A  woman  in  the  middle  of  the  crowd  laughed  shrilly 
—  a  queer,  tall  figure  in  a  battered  hat  — 

"  Aye  —  and  a  lot  3^0'  give  'er  ov  a  Saturday  night, 
don't  yer?" 

"  Sir  Wilfrid's  a  jolly  good  feller,  miss,"  shouted 
another  man.  *'  Pays  'is  men  good  money,  an'  no 
tricks.  If  you  come  meddlin'  with  him,  in  these  parts, 
you'll  catch  it." 

"  An'  we  don't  want  no  suffragettes  here,  thank 
you ! "  cried  a  sarcastic  woman's  voice.  "  We  was 
quite  'appy  till  you  come  along,  an'  we're  quite  willin' 
now  for  to  say  '  Good-bye,  an'  God  bless  yer ! '  " 

The  crowd  laughed  wildly,  and  suddenly  a  lad  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd  picked  up  a  cabbage-stalk  that 
had  fallen  from  one  of  the  market-stalls,  and  flung  it 
at  the  waggon.  The  hooligan  element,  scattered 
through  the  market-place,  took  up  the  hint  at  once ; 
brutal  things  began  to  be  shouted ;  and  in  a  moment  the 
air  was  thick  with  missiles  of  various  sorts,  derived 
from,  the  refuse  of  the  day's  market  —  vegetable  re- 
mains of  all  kinds,  fragments  of  wood  and  cardboard 
boxes,  scraps  of  filthy  matting,  and  anything  else  that 
came  handy. 

The  audience  at  first  disapproved.  There  were  loud 
cries  of  "Stow  it!— "Shut  up !  "— "  Let  the  ladies 
alone !  " —  and  there  was  little  attempt  to  obstruct  the 
police  as  they  moved  forward.  But  then,  by  ill-luck, 
the  powerfully-built  fair-haired  man,  who  had  been 
speaking  when   Winnington   and   Andrews   entered   the 


Delia  Blanchflower  169 

market  place,  rushed  to  the  front  of  the  waggon,  and  in 
a  white  heat  of  fury,  began  to  denounce  both  the  assail- 
ants of  the  speakers,  and  the  croAvd  in  general,  as 
*'  cowardly  louts  " —  on  whom  argument  was  thrown 
away  —  who  could  only  be  reached  "  through  their 
backs,  or  their  pockets  " —  with  other  compliments  of 
the  same  sort,  under  which  the  temper  of  the  "  moder- 
ates "  rapidly  gave  way. 

"  What  an  ass !  What  a  damned  ass !  "  groaned  An- 
drews indignantly.  "  Look  here  Winnington,  you  take 
care  of  Miss  Blanchflower  —  I'll  answer  for  the  other !  " 

And  amid  a  general  shouting  and  scuffling,  through 
which  some  stones  were  beginning  to  fly,  Winnington 
found  himself  leaping  on  tlie  waggon,  followed  by  An- 
drews and  a  couple  of  police. 

Delia  confronted  him  —  undaunted,  though  breath- 
less. 

"What  do  you  want?     We're  all  right!" 

"  You  must  come  away  at  once.  I  can  get  you 
through  the  hotel." 

"  Not  at  all!     We  must  put  the  Resolution." 

"  Come  Miss !  — "  said  the  tall  constable  behind 
Winnington  — "  no  use  talking !  There's  a  lot  of  fel- 
lows here  that  mean  mischief.  You  go  with  this  gentle- 
man.    He'll  look  after  you." 

"  Not  without  my  friend !  "  cried  Delia,  both  hands 
behind  her  on  the  edge  of  the  waggon  —  erect  and  defi- 
ant. "  Gertmdo  !  — "  she  raised  her  voice  — "  What 
do  you  wish  to  do?  " 

But  amid  the  din,  her  appeal  was  not  heard. 

Gertrude  Marvell  however  could  be  clearly  seen  on 
the  other  side  of  the  waggon,  with  Paul  Lathrop  be- 
side her,  listening  to  the  remonstrances  and  entreaties 
of  Andrews,  with  a  smile  as  cool,  as  though  she  were 


lyo  Delia  Blanchflower 

in  the  drawing-room  of  Maumsey  Abbey,  and  the  Cap- 
tain were  inviting  her  to  trifle  with  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  Take  her  along,  Sir !  "  said  the  policeman,  with  a 
nod  to  Winnington.  "  It's  getting  ugly."  And  as  he 
spoke,  a  man  jumped  upon  the  waggon,  a  Latchford 
doctor,  an  acquaintance  of  Winnington's,  who  said 
something  in  his  ear. 

The  next  moment,  a  fragment  of  a  bottle,  flung 
from  a  distance,  struck  Winnington  on  the  wrist.  The 
blood  rushed  out,  and  Delia,  suddenly  white,  looked 
from  it  to  Winnington's  face.  The  only  notice  he  took 
of  the  incident  was  expressed  in  the  instinctive  action 
of  rolling  his  handkerchief  round  it.  But  it  stirred 
him  to  lay  a  grasp  upon  Delia's  arm,  which  she  could 
hardly  have  resisted.  She  did  not,  however,  resist. 
She  felt  herself  lifted  down  from  the  waggon,  and  hur- 
ried along,  the  police  keeping  back  the  crowd,  into  the 
open  door  of  the  hotel.  Shouts  of  a  populace  half  en- 
raged, half  amused,  pursued  her. 

"  Brutes  —  Cowards !  "  she  gasped,  between  her 
teeth  —  then  to  Winnington  — "  Where  are  you  taking 
me  ?     I  have  the  car !  " 

"  There's  a  motor  belonging  to  a  doctor  ready  at 
once  in  the  yard  of  the  hotel.  Better  let  me  take  you 
home  in  it.  Andrews,  I  assure  you,  will  look  after 
Miss  Marvell !  " 

They  passed  through  the  brilliantly-lighted  inn, 
where  landlady,  chambermaids,  and  waiters  stood  grin- 
ning in  rows  to  see,  and  Winnington  hurried  his  charge 
into  the  closed  motor  standing  at  the  inn's  back  door. 

"  Take  the  street  behind  the  hotel,  and  get  out  by 
the  back  of  the  town.  Be  quick !  "  said  Winnington 
to  the  chauffeur. 

Booing  groups  had  already  begun  to  gather  at  the 


Delia  Blanchflower  171 

entrance  of  the  yards,  and  in  tlic  side  street  to  which 
it  led.  The  motor  passed  slowly  through  them,  then 
quickened  its  pace,  and  in  what  seemed  an  incredibly 
short  time,  they  were  in  country  lanes. 

Delia  leant  back,  drawing  long  breaths  of  fatigue 
and  excitement.  Then  she  perceived  with  disgust  that 
her  dress  was  bemired  with  scraps  of  dirty  refuse,  and 
that  some  mud  was  dripping  from  her  hat.  She  took 
off  the  hat,  shook  it  out  of  the  window  of  the  car,  but 
could  not  bring  herself  to  put  It  on  again.  Her  hair, 
loosely  magnificent,  framed  a  face  that  was  now  all 
colour  and  passion.  She  hated  herself,  she  hated  the 
crowd;  it  seemed  to  her  she  hated  the  man  at  her  side. 
Suddenly  Winnington  turned  on  the  electric  light  — 
with  an  exclamation. 

*'  So  sorry  to  be  a  nuisance  —  but  have  you  got  a 
spare  handkerchief?  I'm  afraid  I  shall  spoil  your 
dress ! " 

And  Delia  saw,  to  her  dismay,  that  his  own  hand- 
kerchief which  he  had  originally  tied  round  his  wound 
was  already  soaked,  and  the  blood  was  di'ipping  from 
it  on  to  the  motor-rug. 

"  Yes  —  yes  —  I  have !  "  And  opening  her  little 
wrist-bag,  she  took  out  of  it  two  spare  handkerchiefs, 
and  tied  them,  with  tremulous  hands,  round  the  wrist 
he  held  out  to  her, —  a  wrist  brown  and  spare  and 
powerful,  like  the  rest  of  him. 

"  Now  —  have  you  got  anything  you  could  tie  round 
the  arm,  above  the  wound  —  and  then  twist  the  knot  ?  " 

She  thought. 

"  My  veil ! "  She  slipped  it  off  in  a  moment,  a  long 
motor  veil  of  stout  make.  He  turned  towards  her, 
pushing  up  his  coat  sleeve  as  high  as  it  would  go,  and 
shewing  her   where   to  put   the   bandage.      She   helped 


172  Delia  Blanchflower 

him  to  turn  back  his  shirt  sleeve,  and  then  wound  the 
veil  tightly  round  the  arm,  so  as  to  compress  the  arter- 
ies. Her  fingers  were  warm  and  strong.  He  watched 
them  —  he  felt  their  touch  —  with  a  curious  pleasure. 

"  Now,  suppose  you  take  this  pencil,  and  twist  it  in 
the  knot  —  you  know  how?  Have  you  done  any  First 
Aid?" 

She  nodded. 

"  I  know." 

She  did  it  well.  The  tourniquet  acted,  and  the 
bleeding  at  once  slackened. 

"  All  right  i "  said  Winnington,  smiling  at  her. 
"  Now  if  I  keep  it  up  that  ought  to  do !  "  She  drew 
down  the  sleeve,  and  he  put  his  hand  into  the  motor- 
strap  hanging  near  him,  which  supported  it.  Then  he 
threw  his  head  back  a  moment  against  the  cushions  of 
the  car.  The  sudden  loss  of  blood  on  the  top  of  a  long 
fast,  had  made  him  feel  momentarily  faint. 

Delia  looked  at  him  uneasily  —  biting  her  lip. 

"  Let  us  go  back  to  Latchford,  Mr.  Winnington,  and 
find  a  doctor." 

"  Oh  dear  no !  I'm  only  pumped  for  a  moment. 
It's  going  off.  I'm  perfectly  fit.  When  I've  taken 
you  home,  I  shall  go  in  to  our  Maumsey  man,  and  get 
tied  up.'* 

There  was  silence.  The  hedges  and  fields  flew  by 
outside,  under  the  light  of  the  motor,  stars  overhead. 
Delia's  heart  was  full  of  wrath  and  humiliation. 

"  Mr.  Winnington " 

"  Yes !  "     He  sat  up,  apparently  quite  revived. 

*'  Mr.  Winnington  —  for  Heaven's  sake  —  do  give 
me  up !  " 

He  looked  at  her  with  amused  astonishment. 

"  Give  you  up !  —  How?  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  173 

"  Give  up  being  my  guardian !  I  really  can't  stand 
it.  I  —  I  don't  mind  what  happens  to  myself.  But 
it's  too  bad  that  I  sliould  be  forced  to  —  to  make  my- 
self such  a  nuisance  to  you  —  or  desert  all  my  princi- 
ples. It's  not  fair  to  me  —  that's  what  I  feel  —  it's 
not  indeed !  "  she  insisted  stormily. 

He  saw  her  dimly  as  she  spoke  —  the  beautiful  oval 
of  the  face,  the  white  brow,  the  general  graciousness 
of  line,  so  feminine,  in  truth !  —  so  appealing.  The 
darkness  hid  away  all  that  shewed  the  "  female  franzy." 
Distress  of  mind  —  distress  for  his  trumpery  wound? 
—  had  shaken  her,  brought  her  back  to  youth  and  child- 
ishness.? Again  he  felt  a  rush  of  sympathy  —  of 
tender  concern. 

"  Do  you  think  3^ou  would  do  any  better  with  a 
guardian  chosen  by  the  Court  ?  "  he  asked  her,  smiling, 
after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Of  course  I  should !  I  shouldn't  mind  fighting  a 
stranger  in  the  least." 

"  They  would  be  very  unlikely  to  appoint  a  stranger. 
They  would  probably  name  Lord  Frederick." 

"  He  wouldn't  dream  of  taking  it !  "  she  said,  startled. 
"  And  you  know  he  is  the  laziest  of  men." 

They  both  laughed.  But  her  laugh  was  a  sound  of 
agitation,  and  in  the  close  contact  of  the  motor  he  was 
aware  of  her  quick  breathing. 

"  Well,  it's  true  he  never  answers  a  letter,"  said 
Winnington.     "  But  I  suppose  he's  ill." 

"  He's  been  a  malnde  imag'maire  all  his  life,  and  he 
isn't  going  to  begin  to  put  himself  out  for  anybody 
now !  "  she  said,  scornfully. 

"Your  aunt.  Miss  Blanchflower?" 

"  I  haven't  spoken  to  her  for  years.  She  used  to 
live  with  us  when  I  was   eighteen.      She  tried  to  boss 


174  Delia  Blanchflower 

me,  and  set  father  against  me.  But  I  got  the  best  of 
her." 

"  I  am  sure  you  did,"  said  Winnington. 

She  broke  out  — 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  think  me  a  perfectly  impossible 
creature  whom  nobody  could  ever  get  on  with !  " 

He  paused  a  moment,  then  said  gravely  — 

"  No,  I  don't  think  anything  of  the  kind.  But  I  do 
think  that,  given  what  you  want,  you  are  going  entirely 
the  Avrong  wa}'  to  get  it." 

She  drew  a  long  and  desperate  breath. 

"  Oh,  for  goodness  sake  don't  let's  argue !  " 

He  refrained.  But  after  a  moment  he  added,  still 
more  gravely  — "  And  I  do  protest  —  most  strongly ! 
—  against  the  influence  upon  you  of  the  lady  you  have 
taken  to  live  with  you !  " 

Delia  made  a  vehement  movement. 

"  She  is  my  friend !  —  my  dearest  friend !  "  she  said, 
in  a  shaky  voice.  "  And  I  believe  in  her,  and  admire 
her  with  all  my  heart ! " 

"  I  know  —  and  I  am  sorry.  Her  speech  this  even- 
ing —  all  the  latter  part  of  it  —  was  the  speech  of  an 
Anarchist.  And  the  first  half  was  a  tissue  of  misstate- 
ments. I  happen  to  know  something  about  the  facts 
she  dealt  with." 

"  Of  course  you  take  a  different  view ! " 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  quietly  —  a  little  sternly.  "  Miss 
Marvell  either  does  not  know,  or  she  wilfully  misrepre- 
sents." 

*'  You  can't  prove  it !  " 

"  I  think  I  could.  And  as  to  that  man  —  Mr. 
Lathrop  —  but  3^ou  know  what  I  think." 

They  both  fell  silent.  Through  all  his  own  annoy- 
ance   and    disgust,    Winnington    was    sympathetically 


Delia  Blanchflower  175 

conscious  of  what  she  too  must  be  feeling  —  chafed  and 
thwarted,  at  every  turn,  by  his  legal  power  over  her 
actions,  and  by  the  pressure  of  his  male  will.  He 
longed  to  persuade  her,  convince  her,  soothe  her;  but 
what  chance  for  it,  under  the  conditions  she  had  chosen 
for  her  life? 

The  motor  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  Abbey,  and 
Winnington  turned  on  the  light. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  help  you  out.  Can  you  man- 
age ?  " 

She  stooped  anxiously  to  look  at  his  wrist. 

*'  It's  bleeding  worse  again !  I  am  sure  I  could  im- 
prove that  bandage.  Do  come  in.  My  maid's  got 
everything." 

He  hesitated  —  then  followed  her  into  the  house. 
The  maid  was  summoned,  and  proved  an  excellent  nurse. 
The  wound  was  properly  bandaged,  and  the  arm  put 
in  a  sling. 

Then,  as  the  maid  withdrew,  Delia  and  her  guardian 
were  left  standing  together  in  the  drawing-room,  lit 
only  by  a  dying  gleam  of  fire,  and  a  single  lamp. 

"  Good-night,"  said  Winnington,  gently.  "  Don't 
be  the  least  alarmed  about  Miss  Marvell.  The  train 
doesn't  arrive  for  ten  minutes  yet.  Thank  you  for 
looking  after  me  so  kindly." 

Delia  laughed  —  but  it  was  a  sound  of  distress. 

Suddenly  he  stooped,  lifted  her  hand,  and  kissed  it. 

"  What  you  arc  doing  seems  to  me  foolish  —  and 
wrong!  I  am  afraid  I  must  tell  you  so  plainly,"  he 
said,  with  emotion.  "  But  although  I  feel  like  that  — 
my  one  wish  —  all  the  time  —  is  —  forgive  me  if  it 
sounds  patronising !  —  to  help  3'ou  —  and  stand  by 
you.  To  see  you  in  that  horrid  business  to-night  — 
made  me  —  very  unhappy.     I  am  old-fashioned  I  sup- 


176  Delia  Blanchflower 

pose  —  but  I  could  hardly  bear  it.  I  wish  I  could 
make  you  trust  me  a  little !  " 

"I  do !  "  she  said,  choked.  "I  do  —  but  I  must 
follow  my  conscience." 

He  shook  his  head,  but  said  no  more.  She  mur- 
mured good-night,  and  he  went.  She  heard  the  motor 
drive  away,  and  remained  standing  where  he  had  left 
her,  the  hand  he  had  kissed  hanging  at  her  side.  She 
still  felt  the  touch  of  his  lips  upon  it,  and  as  the  blood 
rushed  into  her  cheeks,  her  heart  was  conscious  of  new 
and  strange  emotions.  She  longed  to  go  to  him  as  a 
sister  or  a  daughter  might,  and  say  — "  Forgive  me  — 
understand  me  —  don't  despair  of  me !  " 

The  trance  of  feeling  broke,  and  passed  away.  She 
caught  up  a  cloak  and  went  to  the  hall  door  to  listen 
for  Gertrude  Marvell. 

"  What  I  shall  have  to  say  to  him  before  long,  is  • — 
'  I  have  tricked  you  this  quarter  out  of  £500  —  and  I 
mean  to  do  it  again  next  quarter  —  if  I  can !  "  He 
won't  want  to  kiss  my  hand  again ! " 


Chapter  X 

ril  WO'  men  sat  smoking  and  talking  with  Paul  Lathrop 

A  in  the  book-littered  sitting-room  of  his  cottage. 
One  was  a  young  journalist,  Roger  Blajdes,  whose  thin, 
close-shaven  face  wore  the  knowing  fool's  look  of  one 
to  whom  the  world's  his  oyster,  and  all  the  bricks  for 
opening  it  familiar.  Tlie  other  was  a  god-like  crea- 
ture, a  poet  by  profession,  with  long  lantern-jaws,  grey 
eyes  deeply  set,  and  a  mass  of  curly  black  hair,  from 
which  the  face  with  its  pallor  and  its  distinction,  shone 
dhnly  out  like  the  portrait  of  a  Cinquecento.  Lathrop, 
in  a  kind  of  dressing-gown,  as  clumsily  cut  as  the  form 
it  wrapped,  his  reddish  hair  and  large  head  catching 
the  firelight,  had  the  look  of  one  lazily  at  bay,  as 
wrapped  in  a  cloud  of  smoke,  he  twined  from  one  speaker 
to  the  other. 

"  So  j'^ou  were  at  another  of  tliese  meetings  last 
night  .J' "  said  Blaydes,  with  a  mouth  half  smiling,  half 
contemptuous. 

"  Yes.  A  disgusting  failure !  They  didn't  even  take 
the  trouble  to  pelt  us."  The  poet  —  Merian  by  name 
—  moved  angrily  on  his  chair.  Blaydes  threw  a  sly 
look  at  him,  as  he  knocked  the  ash  from  his  cigarette. 

"  And  -n^iat  the  deuce  do  you  expect  to  get  by  it  all  ?  " 

Paul  Lathrop  paused  a  moment  —  and  at  last  said 
with  a  lift  of  the  eyebrows  :  — 

"  Well !  —  I  have  no  illusions  !  " 

Merian  broke  out  indignantly  — 

"I  say,  Lathrop  —  why  should  you  try  and  play  up 

177 


178  Delia  Blanchflower 

to  that  cynic  there  ?  As  if  he  ever  had  an  illusion  about 
anything !  " 

"  Well,  but  one  maj^  have  faith  without  illusions," 
protested  Blaydes,  with  hard  good  temper. 

"  I  doubt  whether  Lathrop  has  an  ounce  of  either !  " 

Lathrop  reached  out  for  a  match. 

"  What's  the  good  of  '  faith  ' —  and  what  does  anyone 
mean  by  it?  Sympathies  —  and  animosities:  they're 
enough  for  me." 

"  And  you  really  are  in  sympathy  with  these  women  ?  " 
said  the  other. 

The  tone  was  incredulous.  Merian  brought  his  hand 
violently  down  on  the  table. 

"  Don't  you  talk  about  them,  Blaydes !  I  tell  you, 
they're  out  of  your  ken." 

"  I  daresay,"  said  Bla3'des,  composedly.  "  I  was 
only  trying  to  get  at  what  Lathrop  means  by  going 
into  the  business." 

Paul  Lathrop  sat  up. 

"  I'm  in  sympathy  with  anything  that  harasses,  and 
bothers  and  stings  the  governing  classes  of  this  coun- 
try !  "  he  said,  Avith  an  oratorical  wave  of  his  cigarette. 
"  What  fools  they  are !  In  this  particular  business  the 
Government  is  an  ass,  the  public  is  an  ass,  the  women, 
if  you  like,  are  asses.  So  long  as  they  don't  destroy 
works  of  art  that  appeal  to  me,  I  prefer  to  bray  with 
them  than  with  their  enemies." 

Merian  rose  impatiently  —  a  slim,  dark-browed  St. 
George  towering  over  the  other  two. 

"  After  that,  I'd  rather  hear  them  attacked  by 
Blaydes,  than  defended  by  3'ou,  Lathrop !  "  he  said  with 
energy,  as  he  buttoned  up  his  coat. 

Lathrop  threw  him  a  cool  glance. 

*'  So  for  3'ou,  they're  all  heroines  —  and  saints  ?  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  179 

"  Never  mind  what  they  are.  I  stand  by  them !  I'm 
ready  to  give  them  what  they  ask." 

"  Ready  to  hand  the  Empire  over  to  them  —  to  smash 
like  the  windows  in  Piccadilly?  "  said  Blaydes. 

"  Hang  the  Empire !  —  what  does  the  Empire  mat- 
ter! Give  the  people  in  these  islands  what  they  want 
before  you  begin  to  talk  about  the  Empire.  Well, 
good-bye,  I  must  be  off !  " 

He  nodded  to  the  other  two,  and  opened  the  door  of 
the  Hermitage  which  led  directly  into  the  outer  air. 
On  the  threshold  he  turned  and  looked  back,  irreso- 
lutely, as  though  in  compunction  for  his  loss  of  tem- 
per. Framed  in  the  doorway  against  a  background  of 
sunset  sky,  his  dark  head  and  sparely-noble  features 
were  of  a  singular  though  melancholy  beauty.  It  was 
evident  that  he  was  full  of  speech,  of  which  he  could 
not  in  the  end  unburden  himself.  The  door  closed  be- 
hind him,  and  he  was  gone. 

"  Poor  devil !  "  said  Blaydes,  tipping  the  end  of  his 
cigarette  into  the  fire  —  he's  in  love  with  a  girl  who's 
been  in  prison  three  times.  He  thinks  she'll  kill  her- 
self —  and  he  can't  influence  her  at  all.  He  takes  it 
hard.  Well,  now  look  here  " —  the  young  man's  ex- 
pression changed  and  stiffened  — "  I  understand  that 
you  too  are  seeing  a  good  deal  of  one  of  these  wild 
women  —  and  that  she's  both  rich  —  and  a  beauty  ?  " 

He  looked  up,  with  a  laugh. 

Lathrop's  aspect  was  undisturbed. 

"  Nothing  to  do  with  it  ?  —  though  your  silly  little 
mind  will  no  doubt  go  on  thinking  so." 

The  other  laughed  again  —  with  a  more  emphatic 
mockery.     Lathrop  reddened  —  then  said  quietly  — 

"  Well,  I  admit  that  was  a  lie.  Yes,  she  is  hand- 
some —  and  if  she  were  to  stick  to  it  —  sacrifice  all  her 


i8o  Delia  Blanchflower 

life  to  it  —  in  time  she  might  make  a  horrible  success 
of  this  thing.     Will  she  stick  to  it?  " 

"  Are  you  in  love  with  her,  Paul  ?  " 

"  Of  course !  I  am  in  love  with  all  pretty  women  — 
especially  when  I  daren't  shew  it." 

"  You  daren't  shew  it  ?  " 

"  The  smallest  advance  on  my  part,  in  this  quarter, 
brings  me  a  rap  on  the  knuckles.  I  try  to  pitch  what 
I  have  to  say  in  the  most  impersonal  and  romantic 
terms.  No  good  at  all !  But  all  egg-dancing  is  amus- 
ing, so  I  dance  —  and  accept  all  the  drudgery  she  and 
Alecto  give  me  to  do." 

"  Alecto  ?     Miss  Marvell  ?  " 

"  Naturally." 

"  These  meetings  must  be  pretty  boring." 

"  Especially  because  I  can't  keep  my  temper.  I  lose 
it  in  the  vulgarest  way  —  and  say  the  most  idiotic 
things." 

There  was  a  pause  of  silence.  The  eyes  of  the  jour- 
nalist wandered  round  the  room,  coming  back  to  La- 
throp  at  last  with  renewed  curiosity. 

"  How  are  your  affairs,  Paul?  " 

"  Couldn't  be  worse.  Everything  here  would  have 
been  seized  long  ago,  if  there  had  been  anything  to 
seize.  But  you  can't  distrain  on  trout  —  dear  slithery 
things.  And  as  the  ponds  afford  my  only  means  of 
sustenance,  and  do  occasionally  bring  in  something,  my 
creditors  have  to  leave  me  the  house  and  a  few  beds  and 
chairs  so  that  I  may  look  after  them." 

"  Why  don't  you  write  another  book  ?  " 

"  Because  at  present  I  have  nothing  to  say.  And  on 
that  point  I  happen  to  have  a  conscience  —  some  rays 
of  probity,  left." 


Delia  Blanchflower  181 

He  got  up  as  he  spoke,  and  went  across  the  room,  to 
a  covered  basket  beside  the  fire. 

"  Mimi !  "  he  said  caressingly  — "  poor  Mimi !  " 

He  raised  a  piece  of  flannel,  and  a  Persian  kitten  ly- 
ing in  the  basket  —  a  sick  kitten  —  lifted  its  head  lan- 
guidly. 

"  Tu  m'aimes,  Mimi.?  " 

The  kitten  looked  at  him  with  veiled  eyes,  already 
masked  with  death.  Lathrop  stooped  for  a  saucer  of 
warm  milk  standing  by  the  fire.  The  kitten  refused  it, 
but  when  he  dipped  his  fingers  in  the  milk,  it  made  a 
momentary  effort  to  lick  them,  then  subsiding,  sank  to 
sleep  again. 

"  Poor  little  beast !  "  said  Blaydes  — "  what's  the  mat- 
ter.? " 

"  Some  poison  —  I  don't  know  what.  It'll  die  to- 
night." 

"  Then  you'll  be  all  alone.?  " 

"  I'm  never  alone,"  said  Lathrop,  with  decision.  And 
rising  he  went  to  the  door  of  the  cottage  —  which  opened 
straight  on  the  hill-side,  and  set  it  open. 

It  was  four  o'clock  on  a  November  day.  The  autumn 
was  late,  and  of  a  marvellous  beauty.  The  month  was 
a  third  gone  and  still  there  were  trees  here  and  there, 
isolated  trees,  intensely  green  as  though  they  defied 
decay.  The  elder  trees,  the  first  to  leaf  under  the 
Spring,  were  now  the  last  to  wither.  The  elms  in 
twenty-four  hours  had  turned  a  pale  gold  atop,  while 
all  below  was  still  round  and  green.  But  the  beeches 
were  nearlj^  gone ;  all  that  remained  of  them  was  a  thin 
pattern  of  separate  leaves,  pale  gold  and  faintly  spar- 
kling against  the  afternoon  sky.  Such  a  sky !  Bands 
of  delicate  pinks,  lilacs  and  blues  scratched  across  an 


i82  Delia  Blanchflower 

inner-heaven  of  light,  and  in  the  mid-heaven  a  blazing 
furnace,  blood- red,  wherein  the  sun  had  just  plunged 
headlong  to  its  death.  And  under  the  sky,  an  English 
scene  of  field  and  woodland,  fading  into  an  all-environ- 
ing forest,  still  richly  clothed.  While  in  the  foreground 
and  middle  distance,  some  trees  already  stripped  and 
bare,  winter's  first  spoil,  stood  sharply  black  against 
the  scarlet  of  the  sunset.  And  fusing  the  whole  scene, 
hazes  of  blue,  amethyst  or  purple,  beyond  a  Turner's 
brush. 

"  What  beauty !  —  my  God !  " 

Blaydes  came  to  stand  beside  the  speaker,  glancing 
at  him  with  eyes  half  curious,  half  mocking. 

"  You  get  so  much  pleasure  out  of  it?  " 

For  answer,  Lathrop  murmured  a  few  words  as 
though  to  himself,  a  sudden  lightening  in  his  sleepy 
eyes  — 

L'univers  —  si  liquide,  si  jDur  !  — 
Una  belle  eau  qu'on  voudrait  boire. 

"  I  don't  understand  French  " —  said  Blaydes,  with 
a  shrug  — "  not  French  verse,  anyway." 

"  That's  a  pity,"  was  the  dry  reply  — "  because  you 
can't  read  Madame  de  Noailles.  Ah!  —  there  are 
Lang's  pheasants  calling !  —  his  tenants  I  suppose  — : 
for  he's  left  the  shooting." 

He  pointed  to  a  mass  of  wood  on  his  left  hand  from 
which  the  sound  came. 

"  They  say  he's  never  here?  " 

"Two  or  three  times  a  year, —  just  on  business. 
His  wife  —  a  little  painted  doll  —  hates  the  place,  and 
they've  built  a  villa  at  Beaulieu." 


Delia  Blanchflower  183 

"  Rather  risky  leaving  a  big  house  empty  in  these 
days  —  with  your  wild  women  about !  " 

Lathrop  looked  round. 

"  Good  heavens  !  —  who  would  ever  dream  of  touch- 
ing Monk  Lawrence !  I  bet  even  Gertrude  Marvell 
hasn't  nerve  enough  for  that.  Look  here !  —  have  you 
ever  seen  it  ?  " 

"  Never." 

*'  Come  along  then.  There's  just  time  —  while  this 
light  lasts." 

They  snatched  their  caps,  and  were  presently  mount- 
ing the  path  which  led  ultimately  through  the  woods 
of  Monk  Lawrence  to  the  western  front. 

Blaydes  frowned  as  he  walked.  He  was  a  young  man 
of  a  very  practical  turn  of  mind,  who  in  spite  of  an 
office-boy's  training  possessed  an  irrelevant  taste  for 
literature  which  had  made  him  an  admirer  of  Lathrop's 
two  published  volumes.  For  some  time  past  he  had 
been  Lathrop's  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  —  self-ap- 
pointed, and  had  done  his  best  to  keep  his  friend  out  of 
the  workhouse.  From  the  tone  of  Paul's  recent  letters 
he  had  become  aware  of  two  things  —  first,  that  La- 
throp was  in  sight  of  his  last  five  pound  note,  and  did 
not  see  his  way  to  either  earning  or  borrowing  another ; 
and  secondly,  that  a  handsome  girl  had  appeared  on 
the  scene,  providentially  mad  with  the  same  kind  of 
madness  as  had  recently  seized  on  Lathrop,  belonging 
to  the  same  anarchial  association,  and  engaged  in  the 
same  silly  defiance  of  society ;  likely  therefore  to  be 
thrown  a  good  deal  in  his  company ;  and  last,  but  most 
important,  possessed  of  a  fortune  which  she  would  no 
doubt  allow  the  "  Daughters  of  Revolt  "  to  squander  — 
unless  Paul  cut  in.  The  situation  had  begun  to  seem 
to  him  interesting,   and  having  already  lent  Lathrop 


184  Delia  Blanchflower 

more  money  than  he  could  afford,  he  had  come  down 
to  enquire  about  it.  He  himself  possessed  an  income 
of  three  hundred  a  year,  plus  two  thousand  pounds 
left  him  by  an  uncle.  Except  for  the  single  weakness 
which  had  induced  him  to  lend  Lathrop  a  couple  of 
hundred  pounds,  his  principles  with  regard  to  money 
were  frankly  piratical.  Get  what  3-ou  can  —  and  how 
you  can.  Clearly  it  was  Lathrop's  game  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  this  queer  friendship  with  a  militant  who 
happened  to  be  both  rich  and  young,  which  his  dab- 
bling in  their  "  nonsense  "  had  brought  about.  Why 
shouldn't  he  achieve  it?  Lathrop  was  as  clever  as  sin; 
and  there  was  the  past  history  of  the  man,  to  shew 
that  he  could  attract  women. 

He  gripped  his  friend's  ainn  as  they  passed  into  the 
shadow  of  the  wood.  Lathrop  looked  at  him  with  sur- 
prise — 

"  Look  here,  Paul  " —  said  the  younger  man  In  a 
determined  voice  — "  You've  got  to  pull  this  thing 
off." 

"What  thing?" 

"  You  can  marry  this  girl  if  you  put  your  mind  to  it. 
You  tell  me  you're  going  about  the  country  with  her 
speaking  at  meetings  —  that  you're  one  of  her  helpers 
and  advisers.  That  is  —  you've  got  an  Al  chance  with 
her.     If  you  don't  use  it,  you're  a  blithering  idiot." 

Paul  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  And  what  about  other  people  ?  What  about  her 
guardian,  for  instance  —  who  is  the  sole  trustee  of  the 
propert}''  —  who  has  a  thousand  chances  with  her  to 
my  one  —  and  holds,  I  venture  to  say  —  if  he  knows 
anything  about  me  —  the  strongest  views  on  the  sub- 
ject of  my  moral  character?  " 

"  Who  is  her  guardian?  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  185 

"  Mark  Wilmington,  Does  that  convey  anything  to 
you  ?  " 

Blaydes  whistled. 

"  Great  Scott !  " 

"  Yes.  Precisely  '  Great  Scott ! '  "  said  Lathrop, 
mocking.  "  I  may  add  that  everybody  here  has  their 
own  romance  on  the  subject.  They  are  convinced  th.at 
Winnington  will  soon  cure  her  of  her  preposterous  no- 
tions, and  restore  her,  tamed,  to  a  normal  existence.'* 

Blaydes  meditated, —  his  aspect  showing  a  man 
checked. 

"  I  saw  Winnington  plajang  in  a  county  match  last 
August,"  he  said  —  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground  — 
"  I  declare  no  one  looked  at  anybod}'^  else.  I  suppose 
he's  forty:  but  the  old  stagers  tell  you  that  he's  just 
as  much  of  an  Apollo  now  as  he  was  in  his  most  fa- 
mous da3\s  —  twenty  years  ago." 

"  Don't  exaggerate.  He  is  forty,  and  I'm  thirty  — 
which  is  one  to  me.  I  onh'  meant  to  suggest  to  you  a 
reasonable  view  of  the  chances." 

"  Look  here  —  is  she  as  handsome  as  people  say  ?  " 

"  Bla3^des !  —  this  is  the  last  time  I  shall  allow  you 
to  talk  about  her  —  3'ou  get  on  m\'  nerves.  Handsome.'* 
I  don't  know." 

He  walked  on,  muttering  to  himself  and  twitching  at 
the  trees  on  either  hand. 

"  I  am  simply  putting  what  is  your  duty  to  your- 
self—  and  your  creditors,"  said  Blaydes,  sulkih'  — 
"  You  must  know  your  affairs  are  in  a  pretty  desperate 
state." 

"And  a  girl  like  that  is  to  be  sacrificed  —  to  my 
creditors  !     Good  Lord  !  " 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  regard  yourself  as  such  an  unde- 
sirable, naturally,   I've  nothing  to   say.     Of  course  I 


l86  Delia  Blanchflower 

know  —  there's  that  case  against  you.  But  it's  a  good 
while  ago;  and  I  dechxre  women  don't  look  at  those 
things  as  the}^  used  to  do.  Why  don't  you  play  the 
man  of  letters  business?  You  know  very  well,  Paul, 
you  could  earn  a  lot  of  money  if  you  chose.  But  3'ou're 
such  a  lazy  dog !  " 

"  Let  me  alone ! "  said  Lathrop,  rather  fiercely. 
"  The  fact  that  3'ou've  lent  me  a  couple  of  hundred 
really  doesn't  give  you  the  right  to  talk  to  me  like 
this." 

"  I  won't  lend  you  a  farthing  more  unless  you  prom- 
ise me  to  take  this  thing  seriously,"  said  Blaydes, 
doggedly. 

Lathrop  burst  into  a  nervous  shout  of  laughter. 

"  I  say,  do  shut  up !  I  assure  you,  you  can't  bully 
me.     Now  then  —  here's  the  house !  " 

And  as  he  spoke  they  emerged  from  the  green  oblong, 
bordered  by  low  yew  edges,  from  which  as  from  a  flat 
and  spacious  shelf  carved  out  of  the  hill,  Monk  Law- 
rence surveyed  the  slopes  below  it,  the  clustered  village, 
the  middle  distance  with  its  embroidery  of  fields  and 
trees,  with  the  vaporous  stretches  of  the  forest  beyond, 
and  in  the  far  distance,  a  shining  line  of  sea. 

"  i\Iy  word  !  —  that  is  a  house  !  "  cried  Blaydes,  stop- 
ping to  survey  it  and  get  his  townsman's  breath,  after 
the  steep  pitch  of  hill. 

"Not  bad?" 

"Is  it  shown?" 

"  Used  to  be.  It  has  been  shut  lately  for  fear  of  the 
militants." 

"  But  they  keep  somebody  in  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  in  some  room  at  the  back.  A  keeper,  and 
his  three  children.     The  wife's  dead.      Shall  I  go  and 


Delia  Blanchflower  187 

see  if  lie'll  let  us  in?     But  he  won't.      He'll  have  seen 
my  name  at  that  meeting,  in  the  Latchford  paper." 

"  No,  no.  I  shall  miss  my  train.  Let's  walk  round. 
Why,  you'd  think  it  was  on  fire  already !  "  said  Blaydes, 
with  a  start,  gazing  at  the  house. 

For  the  marvellous  evening  now  marching  from  the 
western  forest,  was  dyeing  tlie  whole  earth  in  crimson, 
and  the  sun  just  emerging  from  one  bank  of  cloud,  be- 
fore dropping  into  the  bank  below,  was  flinging  a  fierce 
glare  upon  the  wide  grey  front  of  Monk  Lawrence. 
Every  window  blazed,  and  some  fine  oaks  still  thick  with 
red  leaf,  which  flanked  the  house  on  the  north,  flamed 
in  concert.  The  air  was  suffused  with  red ;  every  minor 
tone,  blue  or  brown,  green  or  purple,  shelved  through  it, 
as  through  a  veil. 

And  yet  how  quietly  the  house  rose,  in  the  heart  of 
the  flame!  Peace  brooding  on  memory  seemed  to 
breathe  from  its  rounded  oriels,  its  mossy  roof,  its 
legend  in  stone  letters  running  round  the  eaves,  the 
carved  trophies  and  arabesques  which  framed  the 
stately  doorway,  the  sleepy  fountain  with  its  cupids, 
in  the  courtyard,  the  graceful  loggia  on  the  nortliern 
side.  It  stood,  aloof  and  self-contained,  amid  the 
lightnings  and  arrows  of  the  departing  sun. 

"  No  —  they'd  never  dare  to  touch  that !  "  said  La- 
throp  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  path  skirting  the  house. 
"And  if  I  caught  Miss  Marvell  at  it,  I'm  not  sure 
I  shouldn't  hand  her  over  myself !  " 

"  Aren't  we  trespassing? "  said  Blaydes,  as  their 
footsteps  rang  on  tlie  broad  flagged  path  which  led 
from  the  front  court  to  the  terrace  at  the  back  of  the 
house. 

"  Certainly.     Ah,  the  dog's  heard  us." 


i88  Delia  Blanchfiower 

And  before  they  had  gone  more  than  a  few  steps 
further,  a  burly  man  appeared  at  the  further  corner 
of  the  house,  holding  a  muzzled  dog  —  a  mastiff  —  on 
a  leash. 

"What  might  you  be  wanting,  gentlemen?"  he  said 
gruffly. 

"  Why,  you  knov/  me,  Daunt.  I  brought  a  friend  up 
to  look  at  your  wonderful  place.  We  can  walk  through, 
can't  we  ?  " 

"  Well,  as  you're  here,  Sir,  I'll  let  you  out  by  the 
lower  gate.  But  this  is  private  ground,  Sir,  and  Sir 
Wilfrid's  orders  are  strict, —  not  to  let  anybody  through 
that  hasn't  either  business  with  the  house  or  an  order 
from  himself." 

"  All  right.  Let's  have  a  look  at  the  back  and  the 
terrace,  and  then  we'll  be  off ;  Sir  Wilfrid  coming  here  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  Sir,"  said  the  keeper  shortly, 
striding  on  before  the  two  men,  and  quieting  his  dog, 
who  was  growling  at  their  heels. 

As  he  spoke  he  led  the  way  down  a  stately  flight  of 
stone  steps  by  which  the  famous  eastern  terrace  at  the 
back  of  the  house  was  reached.  The  three  men  and  the 
dog  disappeared  from  view. 

Steadily  the  sunset  faded.  An  attacking  host  of 
cloud  rushed  upon  it  from  the  sea,  and  quenched  it.  The 
lights  in  the  windows  of  Monk  Lawrence  went  out. 
Dusk  fell  upon  the  house  and  all  its  approaches. 

Suddenl}^,  two  figures  —  figures  of  women  —  emerged 
in  the  twilight  from  the  thick  plantation,  which  pro- 
tected the  house  on  the  north.  They  reached  the 
flagged  path  with  noiseless  feet,  and  then  pausing,  they 
began  what  an  intelligent  spectator  would  have  soon 
seen  to  be  a  careful  reconnoitering  of  the  whole  north- 


Delia  Blanchflower  189 

ern  side  of  the  house.  They  seemed  to  examme  the 
windov>'s,  a  garden  door,  the  recesses  in  the  walls,  the 
old  lead  piping,  the  creepers  and  shrubs.  Then  one 
of  them,  keeping  close  to  the  house  wall,  which  was  in 
deep  shadow,  went  quickly  round  to  the  back.  The 
other  awaited  her.  In  the  distance  rose  at  intervals  a 
dog's  uneasy  bark. 

In  a  \erj  few  minutes  the  woman  who  had  gone 
round  the  house  returned  and  the  two,  slipping  back 
into  the  dense  belt  of  wood  from  which  they  had  come, 
were  instantly  swallowed  up  by  it.  Their  appearance 
and  their  movements  throughout  had  been  as  phantom- 
like and  silent  as  the  shadows  which  were  now  engulfing 
the  house.  Anj'one  who  had  seen  them  come  and  go 
might  almost  have  doubted  his  own  eyes. 

Daunt  the  Keeper  returned  leisurely  to  his  quarters 
in  some  back  premises  of  Monk  Lawrence,  at  the  south- 
eastern corner  of  the  house.  But  he  had  but  just 
opened  his  own  door  when  he  again  heard  the  sound  of 
footsteps  in  the  fore-court. 

"  Well,  what's  come  to  the  folk  to-night " —  he  mut- 
tered, with  some  ill-humour,  as  he  turned  back  towards 
the  front. 

A  woman !  —  standing  with  her  back  to  the  house,  in 
the  middle  of  the  forecourt  as  though  the  place  belonged 
to  her,  and  gazing  at  the  piled  clouds  of  the  west,  still 
haunted  by  the  splendour  just  past  away. 

A  veritable  ^lasque  of  Women,  all  of  the  Maenad 
sort,  had  by  now  begun  to  riot  through  Daunt's  brain 
by  night  and  day.     He  raised  his  voice  sharply  — 

"  What's  your  business  here.  Ma'am  ?  There  is  no 
public  road  past  this  house." 


IQO  Delia  Blanchflower 

The  lady  turned,  and  came  towards  him. 

"  Don't  you  know  who  I  am,  Mr.  Daunt .^  But  I  re- 
member you  when  I  was  a  child." 

Daunt  peered  through  the  dusk. 

"  You  have  the  advantage  of  me.  Madam,"  he  said, 
stiffly.     "  Kindly  give  me  your  name." 

"  Miss  Blanchflower  —  from  Maumsey  Abbey !  "  said 
a  young,  conscious  voice.  "  I  used  to  come  here  with 
my  grandmother,  Lady  Blanchflower.  I  have  been  in- 
tending to  come  and  pay  you  a  visit  for  a  long  time  — 
to  have  a  look  at  the  old  house  again.  And  just  now 
I  was  passing  the  foot  of  your  hill  in  a  motor;  some- 
thing went  wrong  with  the  car,  and  while  they  were 
mending  it,  I  ran  up.  But  it's  getting  dark  so  quick, 
one  can  hardly  see  anything ! " 

Daunt's  attitude  showed  no  relaxation.  Indeed, 
quick  recollections  assailed  him  of  certain  reports  in 
the  local  papers,  now  some  ten  days  old.  Miss  Blanch- 
flower indeed !  She  was  a  brazen  one  —  after  all  done 
and  said. 

"  Pleased  to  see  you.  Miss,  if  you'll  kindly  get  an  or- 
der from  Sir  Wilfrid.  But  I  have  strict  instructions 
from  Sir  Wilfrid  not  to  admit  anyone  —  not  anyone 
whatsoever  —  to  the  gardens  or  the  house,  without  his 
order." 

"  I  should  have  thought,  Mr.  Daunt,  that  only  ap- 
plied to  strangers."  The  tones  shewed  annoyance. 
"  My  father,  Sir  Robert  Blanchflower,  was  an  old  friend 
of  Sir  Wilfrid's." 

"  Can't  help  it,  Miss,"  said  Daunt,  not  without  the 
secret  zest  of  the  Radical  putting  down  his  "  betters." 
"  There  are  queer  people  about.  I  can't  let  no  one  in 
without  an  order." 

As  he  spoke,  a  gate  slammed  on  his  left,  and  Daunt, 


Delia  Blanchflower  191 

with  the  feeling  of  one  beset,  turned  in  wrath  to  see 
who  might  be  this  new  intruder.  Since  the  house  had 
been  closed  to  visitors,  and  a  notice  to  the  effect  had 
been  posted  in  the  village,  scarcely  a  soul  had  pene- 
trated through  its  enclosing  woods,  except  Miss  Am- 
berlej,  who  came  to  teach  Daunt's  crippled  child.  And 
now  in  one  evening  here  were  three  assaults  upon  its 
privacy ! 

But  as  to  the  third  he  was  soon  reassured. 

"  Hullo,  Daunt,  is  that  you.''  Did  I  hear  you  telling 
Miss  Blanchflower  you  can't  let  her  in.''  But  you  know 
her  of  course  ?  "  said  a  man's  easy  voice. 

Delia  started.  The  next  moment  her  hand  was  in 
her  guardian's,  and  she  realised  that  he  had  heard  the 
conversation  between  herself  and  Daunt,  realised  also 
that  she  had  committed  a  folly  not  easily  to  be  ex- 
plained, either  to  Winnington  or  herself,  in  obeying  the 
impulse  which  —  half  memory,  half  vague  anxiety, — 
had  led  her  to  pay  this  sudden  visit  to  the  house.  Ger- 
tinide  Marvell  had  left  Maumsey  that  morning,  saying 
she  should  be  in  London  for  the  day.  Had  Gertrude 
been  with  her,  Delia  would  have  let  Monk  Lawrence  go 
by.  For  in  Gertrude's  company  it  had  become  an  in- 
stinct with  her  —  an  instinct  she  scarcely  confessed  to 
herself  —  to  avoid  all  reference  to  the  house. 

At  sight  of  Winnington,  however,  who  was  clearly  a 
privileged  person  in  his  eyes,  Daunt  instantly  changed 
his  tone. 

"  Good  evening.  Sir.  Perhaps  you'll  explain  to  this 
young  lady.''  We've  got  to  keep  a,  sharp  lookout  — 
you  know  that,  Sir." 

"  Certainly,  Daunt,  certainly.  I  am  sure  ]\Iiss 
Blanchflower  understands.  But  you'll  let  772^  shew  her 
the  house,  I  imafjine?  " 


192  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Why,  of  course,  Sir !  There's  nothing  you  can't 
do  here.  Give  me  a  few  minutes  —  I'll  turn  on  some 
lights.  Perhaps  the  young  lady  will  walk  in?"  He 
pointed  to  his  own  rooms. 

"  So  you  still  keep  the  electric  light  going?" 

"  By  Sir  Wilfrid's  wish,  Sir. —  so  as  if  anything  did 
happen  these  winter  nights,  we  mightn't  be  left  in  dark- 
ness.    The  engine  works  a  bit  now  and  then." 

He  led  the  way  towards  his  quarters.  The  door  into 
his  kitchen  stood  open,  and  in  the  glow  of  fire  and  lamp 
stood  his  three  children,  who  had  been  eagerly  listening 
to  the  conversation  outside.  One  of  them,  a  little  girl, 
was  leaning  on  a  crutch.  She  looked  up  happily  as 
Winnington  entered. 

"  Well,  Lily  — "  he  pinched  her  cheek  — "  I've  got 
something  to  tell  Father  about  you.  Say  '  how  do 
3'ou  do  '  to  this  lady."  The  child  put  her  hand  in 
Delia's,  looking  all  the  while  ardently  at  Winnington. 

"Am  I  going  to  be  in  your  school.  Sir?  " 

"  If  you're  good.  But  j^ou'll  have  to  be  dreadfully 
good !  " 

"  I  am  good,"  said  Lily,  confidently.  "  I  want  to  be 
in  3"our  school,  please  Sir." 

"  But  such  a  lot  of  other  little  girls  want  to  come 
too  !     Must  I  leave  them  out  ?  " 

Lily  shook  her  head  perplexed.  "  But  j^ou  pro- 
mithed,"  she  lisped,  very  softly. 

Winnington  laughed.  The  child's  hand  had  trans- 
ferred itself  to  his,  and  nestled  there. 

"What  school  does  she  mean?"  asked  Delia. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  Winnington  turned  to  her 
for  the  first  time.  It  was  as  though  till  then  he  had 
avoided  looking  at  her,  lest  the  hidden  thought  in  each 
mind  should  be  too  plain  to  the  other.     He  had  found 


Delia  Blanchfiower  193 

her  —  Sir  Robert  Blanchflower's  daughter  —  on  the 
point  of  being  curtly  refused  admission  to  the  house 
where  her  father  had  been  a  familiar  inmate,  and  where 
she  herself  had  gone  in  and  out  as  a  child.  And  he 
knew  why  ;  she  knew  wliy ;  Daunt  knew  why.  She  was 
a  person  under  suspicion,  a  person  on  whom  the  com- 
munity was  keeping  watch. 

Nevertheless,  Winnington  entirely  believed  what  he 
had  overheard  her  say  to  the  keeper.  It  was  no  doubt 
quite  true  that  she  had  turned  aside  to  see  jNIonk  Law- 
rence on  a  sudden  impulse  of  sentiment  or  memor}-. 
Odd  that  it  should  be  so !  —  but  like  her.  That  she 
could  have  any  designs  on  the  beautiful  old  place  was 
indeed  incredible ;  and  it  was  equally  Incredible  that 
she  would  aid  or  abet  them  in  anyone  else.  And  yet  — 
there  was  that  monstrous  speech  at  Latchford,  made  in 
her  hearing,  b}'  her  friend  and  co-militant,  the  woman 
who  shared  her  life !  Was  it  any  wonder  that  Daunt 
bristled  at  the  sight  of  her.? 

He  had,  however,  to  answer  her  question. 

"  My  count}'  school,"  he  explained.  "  The  school 
for  invalid  children  — '  physical  defectives  ' —  that  we 
are  going  to  open  next  summer.  I  came  to  tell  Daunt 
there'd  be  a  place  for  this  child.  She's  an  old  friend 
of  mine."  He  smiled  down  upon  the  nestling  crea- 
ture — "  Has  Miss  Amberley  been  to  see  you  lately, 
Lily?" 

At  this  moment  Daunt  returned  to  the  kitchen,  with 
the  news  tliat  the  house  was  read}'.  "  The  light's  not 
quite  what  it  ought  to  be.  Sir,  but  I  daresay  you'll  be 
able  to  see  a  good  deal.  Miss  Amberley,  Sir,  she's 
taught  Lily  fine.  I'm  sure  we're  very  much  obliged  to 
her  —  and  to  you  for  asking  her." 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  sick  children  here  will  do 


194  Delia  Blanchfiower 


without  her,  Daunt.  She's  going  away  —  wants  to  be 
a  nurse." 

"  Well,  I'm  very  sorry.  Sir.      She'll  be  badly  missed." 

"  That  she  will.  Shall  we  go  in  ? "  Winnington 
turned  to  Delia,  who  nodded  assent,  and  followed  him 
into  the  dim  passages  beyond  the  brightly-lighted 
kitchen.  The  children,  looking  after  them,  saw  the 
beautiful  lady  disappearing,  and  felt  vaguely  awed  by 
her  height,  her  stiff  carriage  and  her  proud  looks. 

Delia,  indeed,  was  again  —  and  as  usual  —  in  revolt, 
against  herself  and  circumstances.  Why  had  she  been 
such  a  fool  as  to  come  to  Monk  Lawrence  at  all,  and  then 
to  submit  to  seeing  it  —  on  sufferance !  —  in  Winning- 
ton's  custody?  And  how  he  must  be  contrasting  her 
with  Susy  Amberley !  —  the  soft  sister  of  charity,  ph'- 
ing  her  womanly  tasks,  in  the  manner  of  all  good  women, 
since  the  world  began !  She  saw  herself  as  the  anarchist 
prowling  outside,  tracked,  spied  on,  held  at  arm's  length 
by  all  decent  citizens,  all  lovers  of  ancient  beauty,  and 
moral  tradition ;  while,  within,  women  like  Susy  Amber- 
ley  sat  Madonna-like,  with  the  children  at  their  knee. 
"  Well,  we  stand  for  the  children  too  —  the  children 
of  the  future !  "  she  said  to  herself  defiantly. 

"  This  is  the  old  hall  —  and  the  gallery  that  was  put 

up  in  honour  of  Elizabeth's  visit  here  in  1570 "  she 

heard  Winnington  saying  — "  One  of  the  finest  things 
of  its  kind.      But  you  can  hardly  see  it." 

The  electric  light  indeed  was  of  the  feeblest.  A  dim 
line  of  it  ran  round  the  carved  ceiling,  and  glimmered 
in  the  central  chandelier.  But  the  mingled  illumina- 
tion of  sunset  and  moonrise  from  outside  contended  with 
it  on  more  than  equal  terms ;  and  everything  in  the 
hall,  tapestries,  armour,  and  old  oak,  the  gallery  above, 
the  dais  with  its  carv'ed  chairs  below,  had  the  dim  mys- 


Delia  Blanchflower  195 

tery  of  a  stage  set  ready  for  the  play,  before  the  lights 
are  on. 

Daunt  apologised. 

"  The  gardcnerll  be  here  directly,  Sir.  He  knows 
how  to  manage  it  better  than  I." 

And  in  spite  of  protests  from  the  two  visitors  he  ran 
off  again  to  see  what  could  he  done  to  better  the  light. 
Delia  turned  impetuously  on  her  companion. 

"  I  know  you  think  I  have  no  business  to  be  here !  " 
Winnington  paused  a  moment,  then  said  — 
"  I  was  rather  astonished  to  see  you  here,  certainly." 
"  Because  of  what  we  said  at  Latchford  the  other 
day.?" 

"  You  didn't  say  it ! " 

"  But  I  agreed  with  it  —  I  agreed  with  every  word 
of  it ! » 

"  Then  indeed  I  am  astonished  that  you  should  wish 
to  see  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang's  house!"  he  said,  with  en- 
ergy. 

"  My  recollections  of  it  have  nothing  to  do  with  Sir 
Wilfrid.     I  never  saw  him  that  I  know  of." 
"  All  the  same,  it  belongs  to  him." 
"  No !  —  to  history  —  to  the  nation  !  " 
"  Then  let  the  nation  guard  it  —  and  every  individual 
in  the  nation !     But  do  you  think  Miss  Marvell  would 
take  much  pains  to  protect  it?  " 

"  Gertrude  said  nothing  about  the  house." 
*'  No ;  but  if  I  had  been  one  of  the  excitable  women 
you  command,  my  one  desire  after  that  speech  would 
have  been  to  do  some  desperate  damage  to  Sir  Wilfrid, 
or  his  property.  If  anything  does  happen,  I  am  afraid 
everyone  in  the  neighbourhood  will  regard  her  as  re- 
sponsible." 

Delia  moved  impatiently.     "  Can't  we  say  what  we 


196 


Delia  Blanchflower 


think  of  Sir  Wilfrid  —  because  he  happens  to  possess 
a  beautiful  house?  " 

"  If  you  care  for  Monk  Lawrence,  you  do  so, —  with 
this  campaign  on  foot  —  only  at  great  risk.  Confess, 
Miss  Delia !  —  that  you  were  sorry  for  that  speech !  " 

He  turned  upon  her  with  animation. 

She  spoke  as  though  under  pressure,  her  head  thrown 
back,  her  face  ivory  within  the  black  frame  of  the  veil. 

"I  —  I  shouldn't  have  made  it." 

"  That's  not  enough.  I  want  to  hear  you  say  you 
regret  it !  " 

The  light  suddenly  increased,  and  she  saw  him  look- 
ing at  her,  his  eyes  bright  and  urgent,  his  attitude  that 
of  the  strong  yet  mild  judge,  whose  own  moral  life 
watches  keenly  for  any  sign  of  grace  in  the  accused 
before  him.  She  realised  for  an  angry  moment  what  his 
feeling  must  be  —  how  deep  and  invincible,  towards 
these  "  outrages  "  which  she  and  Gertrude  Marvell  re- 
garded b}^  now  as  so  natural  and  habitual  —  outrages 
that  were  calml}^  planned  and  organised,  as  she  knew 
well,  at  the  head  offices  of  their  society,  by  Gertrude 
Marvell  among  others,  and  acquiesced  in  —  ap- 
proved —  by  hundreds  of  persons  like  herself,  who 
either  shrank  from  taking  a  direct  part  in  them,  or  had 
no  opportunit}'  of  doing  so.  "  But  I  shall  soon  make 
opportunities  !  —  "  she  thought,  passionately ;  "  I'm 
not  going  to  be  a  shirker ! "  Aloud  she  said  in  her 
stiffest  manner  — "  I  stand  by  my  friends,  Mr.  Winning- 
ton,  especially  when  they  are  ten  times  better  and 
nobler  than  I !  " 

His  expression  changed.  He  turned,  like  any  cour- 
teous stranger,  to  plajung  the  part  of  showman  of 
the  house.     Once  more  a  veil  had  fallen  between  them. 

He  led  her  through  the  great  suite  of  rooms  on  the 


Delia  Blanchflower  197 

ground-floor,  the  drawing-room,  the  Red  Parlour,  the 
Chinese  room,  the  Library.  The^^  recalled  her  child- 
ish visits  to  the  house  with  her  grandmother,  and  a  score 
of  recollections,  touching  or  absurd,  rushed  into  her 
mind  —  but  not  to  her  lips.  Dumbness  had  fallen  on 
her ;  —  nothing  seemed  worth  sa^'ing,  and  she  hurried 
through.  She  was  conscious  onl}^  of  a  rich  confused 
impression  of  old  seemlincss  and  mellowed  beauty, — 
steeped  in  fragrant  and  famous  memories,  English  his- 
tory, English  poetry,  English  art,  breathing  from  every 
room  and  stone  of  the  house.  "  In  the  Red  Parlour, 
Sidney  wrote  part  of  the  '  Arcadia.'  —  In  the  room 
overhead  Gabriel  Harvey  slept, —  In  the  Porch  rooms 
Chatham  stayed  —  his  autograph  is  there. —  Fox  ad- 
vised upon  all  the  older  portion  of  the  Library  " —  and 
so  on.  She  heard  Winnington's  voice  as  though  through 
a  dream.  What  did  it  matter?  She  felt  the  house  an 
oppression  —  as  though  it  accused  or  threatened  her. 

As  the}-  emerged  from  the  library  into  a  broad  pas- 
sage, Winnington  noticed  a  garden  door  at  the  north 
end  of  the  passage,  and  called  to  Daunt  who  was  walk- 
ing behind  them.  They  went  to  look  at  it,  leaving  Delia 
in  the  corridor. 

"  Not  very  secure,  is  it.'  "  said  Winnington,  pointing 
to  the  glazed  upper  half  of  the  door  — "  anyone  might 
get  in  there." 

"  I've  told  Sir  Wilfrid,  Sir,  and  sent  him  the  measure- 
ments.    There's  to  be  an  iron  shutter." 

"  H'm  —  that  may  take  time.  Why  not  put  up 
something  temporary.?  —  cross-bars  of  some  sort.?" 

They  came  back  towards  Delia,  discussing  it.  L^n- 
rcasonably,  absurdly,  she  held  it  an  offence  that  Win- 
nington should  discuss  it  in  her  presence;  her  breath 
grew  stormy. 


iqS  Delia  Blanchflower 

Daunt  turned  to  the  right  at  the  foot  of  a  carved 
staircase,  and  down  a  long  passage  leading  to  the 
kitchens,  he  and  Winnington  still  talking.  Suddenly  — 
a  short  flight  of  steps,  not  very  visible  in  a  dark  place. 
Winnington  descended  them,  and  then  turned  to  look 
for  Delia  who  was  just  behind 

"  Please  take  care ! " 

But  he  was  too  late.  Head  in  air  —  absorbed  in 
her  own  passionate  mood,  Delia  never  saw  the  steps,  till 
her  foot  slipped  on  the  topmost.  She  would  have  fallen 
headlong,  had  not  Winnington  caught  her.  His  arms 
received  her,  held  her,  released  her.  The  colour  rushed 
into  his  face  as  into  hers.  "  You  are  not  hurt  ?  "  he 
said  anxiously.  "  I  ought  to  have  held  a  light,"  said 
Daunt,  full  of  concern.  But  the  little  incident  had 
broken  the  ice.  Delia  laughed,  and  straightened  her 
Cavalier  hat,  which  had  suffered.  She  was  still  rosy 
as  they  entered  Daunt's  kitchen,  and  the  children  who 
had  seen  her  silent  and  haughty  entrance,  hardl}'  rec- 
ognised the  creature  all  life  and  animation  who  re- 
turned to  them. 

The  car  stood  waiting  in  the  fore-court.  Winning- 
ton  put  her  in.  As  Delia  descended  the  hill  alone  in 
the  dark,  she  closed  her  eyes,  that  she  might  the  more 
completely  give  herself  to  the  conflict  of  thoughts  which 
possessed  her.  She  was  bitterly  ashamed  and  sore, 
torn  between  her  passionate  aff'ection  for  Gertrude  Mar- 
vell,  and  what  seemed  to  her  a  weak  and  traitorous  wish 
to  stand  better  with  Mark  Winnington.  Nor  could  she 
escape  from  the  memory  —  the  mere  physical  memory  — 
of  those  strong  arms  round  her,  resent  it  as  she  might. 

As  for  Winnington,  when  he  reached  home  in  the 
moonlight,  instead  of  going  in  to  join  his  sister  at  tea, 


Delia  Blanchflower  199 

he  paced  a  garden  path  till  night  had  fallen.  What 
was  this  strong  insurgent  feeling  he  could  neither  rea- 
son with  nor  silence?  It  seemed  to  have  stolen  upon 
him,  amid  a  host  of  other  thoughts  and  pre-occupations, 
secretly  and  insidiously,  till  there  it  stood  —  full- 
grown  —  his  new  phantom  self  —  challenging  the  old, 
the  normal  self,  face  to  face. 

Trouble,  self-scorn  overwhelmed  him.  Recalling  all 
his  promises  to  himself,  all  his  assurances  to  Lady  Ton- 
bridge,  he  stood  convicted,  as  the  sentry  who  has  shut 
his  eyes  and  let  the  invader  pass.  Monstrous  !  ■ —  that 
in  his  position,  with  this  difference  of  age  between  them, 
he  should  have  allowed  such  ideas  to  grow  and  gather 
head.  Beautiful  wayward  creature !  —  all  the  more  be- 
guiling, because  of  the  difficulties  that  bristled  round 
her.  His  common  sense,  his  judgment  were  under  no 
illusions  at  all  about  Delia  Blanchflower.     And  yet  — 

This  then  was  passion!  —  which  must  be  held  down 
and  reasoned  down.  He  would  reason  it  down.  She 
must  and  should  marry  a  man  of  her  own  generation  — 
youth  with  youth.  And,  moreover,  to  give  way  to  these 
wild  desires  would  be  simply  to  alienate  her,  to  destroy 
all  his  own  power  with  her  for  good. 

The  ghostly  presence  of  his  life  came  to  him.  He 
cried  out  to  her,  made  appeal  to  her,  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes.  And  then,  in  some  mysterious,  heavenly  way  she 
was  revealed  to  him  afresh;  not  as  an  enemy  whom  he 
had  offended,  not  as  a  lover  slighted,  but  as  his  best  and 
tenderest  friend.  She  closed  no  gates  against  the  fu- 
ture :  —  that  was  for  himself  to  settle,  if  closed  they 
were  to  be.  She  seemed  to  walk  with  him,  hand  in  hand, 
sister  with  brother  —  in  a  deep  converse  of  souls. 


Chapter  XI 

GERTRUDE  I^IARYELL  was  sitting  alone  at  the 
Maumsey  breakfast-table,  in  the  pale  light  of  a 
December  day.  All  around  her  were  letters  and  news- 
papers, to  which  she  was  giving  an  attention  entirely 
denied  to  her  meal.  She  opened  them  one  after  another, 
v.ith  a  frown  or  a  look  of  satisfaction,  classifying  them 
in  heaps  as  she  read,  and  occasionally  remembering  her 
coffee  or  her  toast.  The  parlourmaid  waited  on  her, 
but  knew  very  well  —  and  resented  the  knowledge  — 
that  Miss  Marvell  was  scarcely  aware  of  her  existence, 
or  her  presence  in  the  room. 

But  presently  the  lady  at  the  table  asked  — 

"  Is  Miss  Blanchflower  getting  up.^*  " 

"  She  will  be  doAvn  directly.  Miss." 

Gertrude's  eyebrows  rose,  unconsciously.  She  her- 
self was  never  late  for  an  8.30  breakfast,  and  never 
went  to  bed  till  long  after  midnight.  The  waj^s  of 
Delia,  who  varied  between  too  little  sleep  and  the  long 
nights  of  fatigue,  seemed  to  her  self-indulgent. 

After  her  letters  had  been  put  aside  and  the  ordinary 
newspapers,  she  took  up  a  new  number  of  the  Tocsin. 
The  first  page  was  entirely  given  up  to  an  article 
headed  "How  long?"  She  read  it  with  care,  her 
delicate  mouth  tightening  a  little.  She  herself  had  sug- 
gested the  lines  of  it  a  few  days  before,  to  the  Editor, 
and  her  hints  had  been  partially  carried  out.  It  gave 
a  scathing  account  of  Sir  Wilfrid's  course  on  the  suf- 
frage   question  —  of   his    earlier    ccquettlngs    with    the 


Delia  Blanchflower  201 

woman's  cause,  his  defection  and  "  treachery,"  the  bit- 
ter and  ingenious  hostility  with  which  he  was  now  pur- 
suing the  Bill  before  the  House  of  Commons.  "  An 
amiable,  white-haired  nonentity  for  the  rest  of  the 
world  —  who  only  mention  him  to  marvel  that  such  a 
man  was  ever  admitted  to  an  English  Cabinet  —  to  us 
he  is  the  '  smiler  with  the  knife,'  the  assassin  of  the 
hopes  of  women,  the  reptile  in  the  path.  The  Bill  is 
weakening  every  day  in  the  House,  and  on  the  night 
of  the  second  reading  it  will  receive  its  '  coup  de  grace  ' 
from  the  hand  of  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang.  Women  of  Eng- 
land —  hozo  long! " 

Gertrude  pushed  the  newspaper  aside  in  discontent. 
Her  critical  sense  was  beginning  to  weary  of  the  shriek- 
ing note.  And  the  descent  from  the  "  assassin  of  the 
hopes  of  women  "  to  "  the  reptile  in  the  path  "  struck 
her  as  a  silly  bathos. 

Suddenly,  a  reverie  —  a  waking  dream  —  fell  upon 
her,  a  visionary  succession  of  sights  and  sounds.  A 
dying  sunset  —  and  a  rising  wind,  sighing  through 
dense  trees  —  old  walls  —  the  liglit  from  a  kitchen  win- 
dow —  voices  in  the  distance  —  the  barking  of  a 
dog.   .   .  . 

"  Oh  Gertrude  !  —  how  late  I  am  !  " 

Delia  entered  hurriedly,  with  an  anxious  air. 

"  I  should  have  been  down  long  ago,  but  Weston  had 
one  of  her  attacks,  and  I  have  been  looking  after 
her." 

Weston  was  Delia's  maid  who  had  been  her  constant 
companion  for  ten  years.  She  was  a  delicate  nervous 
woman,  liable  to  occasional  onsets  of  mysterious  pain, 
which  terrified  both  herself  and  her  mistress,  and  had 
hitherto  puzzled  the  doctor. 

Gertrude  received  the  news  with  a  passing  concern. 


202  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Better  send  for  France,  if  you  are  worried.  But 
I  expect  it  will  be  soon  over." 

"  I  don't  know.  It  seems  worse  than  usual.  The 
man  in  Paris  threatened  an  operation.  And  here  we 
are  —  going  up  to  London  in  a  fortnight !  " 

"  Well,  you  need  only  send  her  to  the  Brownmouth 
hospital,  or  leave  her  here  with  France  and  a  good 
nurse." 

"  She  has  the  most  absurd  terror  of  hospitals,  and  I 
certainly  couldn't  leave  her,"  said  Delia,  with  a  fur- 
rowed brow. 

"  You  certainly  couldn't  stay  behind ! "  Gertrude 
looked  up  pleasantly. 

"  Of  course  I  want  to  come "  said  Delia  slowl3^ 

"  Why,  darling,  hoM'  could  we  do  without  you  ?  You 
don't  know  how  you're  wanted.  Whenever  I  go  up 
town,  it's  the  same — '  Whcn's  she  coming?  '  Of  course 
they  understood  you  must  be  here  for  a  while  —  but  the 
heart  of  things,  the  things  that  concern  us  —  is  Lon- 
don." 

"  What  did  you  hear  yesterday?  "  asked  Delia,  help- 
ing herself  to  some  very  cold  coffee.  Nothing  was  ever 
kept  warm  for  her,  the  owner  of  the  house ;  everything 
was  always  kept  wami  for  Gertrude.  Yet  the  fact 
arose  from  no  Sybaritic  tendency  whatever  on  Ger- 
trude's part.  Food,  clothing,  sleep  —  no  religious 
ascetic  could  have  been  more  sparing  than  she,  in  her 
demands  upon  them.  She  took  them  as  they  came  — 
well  or  ill  supplied ;  too  pre-occupied  to  be  either  grate- 
ful or  discontented.  And  what  she  neglected  for  her- 
self, she  equally  neglected  for  other  people. 

"  What  did  I  hear?  "  repeated  Gertrude.  "  Well,  of 
course,  everything  is  rushing  on.  There  is  to  be  a 
raid  on  Parliament  as  soon  as  the  session  begins  —  and 


Delia  Blanchflower  203 

a  deputation  to  Downing  Street.  A  number  of  new 
plans  and  devices  are  being  discussed.  And  there 
seemed  to  me  to  be  more  volunteers  than  ever  for  '  spe- 
cial service  '.?  " 

She  looked  up  quietly  and  her  eyes  met  Delia's ;  — 
in  hers  a  steely  ardour,  in  Delia's  a  certain  trou- 
ble. 

"  Well,  we  want  some  cheering  up,"  said  the  girl, 
rather  wearily.  "  Those  two  last  meetings  were  — 
pretty  depressing !  —  and  so  were  the  bye-elections." 

She  was  thinking  of  the  two  open-air  meetings  at 
Brownmouth  and  Frimpton.  There  had  been  no  vio- 
lence offered  to  the  speakers,  as  in  the  Latchford  case; 
the  police  had  seen  to  that.  Her  guardian  had  made 
no  appearance  at  either,  satisfied,  no  doubt,  after  en- 
quiry, that  she  was  not  likely  to  come  to  harm.  But  the 
evidence  of  public  disapproval  could  scarcely  have  been 
more  chilling  —  more  complete.  Both  her  speaking, 
and  that  of  Gertrude  and  Paul  Lathrop,  seemed  to  her 
to  have  dropped  dead  in  exhausted  air.  An  audience 
of  boys  and  girls  —  an  accompaniment  of  faint  jeers, 
testifying  rather  to  boredom  than  hostility  —  a  sense  of 
blank  waste  and  futility  when  all  was  over :  —  her  recol- 
lection had  little  else  to  shew. 

Gertrude  interrupted  her  thought. 

"  My  dear  Delia !  —  what  you  want  is  to  get  out  of 
this  backwater,  and  back  into  the  main  stream!  Even 
I  get  stale  here.  But  in  those  great  London  meet- 
ings —  there  one  catches  on  again !  —  one  realises 
again  —  what  it  all  means!  Why  not  come  up  with 
nie  next  week,  even  if  the  flat's  not  ready.''  I  can't 
have  you  running  down  like  this !  Let's  hurry  up  and 
get  to  London." 

The  speaker  had  risen,  and  standing  behind  Delia, 


204  Delia  Blanchflower 

she  laid  her  hand  on  the  waves  of  the  girl's  beautiful 
hair.     Delia  looked  up. 

"  Very  well.  Yes,  I'll  come.  I've  been  getting  de- 
pressed.    I'll  come  —  at  least  if  Weston's  all  right." 

"  I'm  afraid,  Miss  Blanchflower,  this  is  a  very  serious 
business !  " 

Dr.  France  was  the  speaker.  He  stood  with  his  back 
to  the  fire,  and  his  hands  behind  him,  surveying  Delia 
with  a  look  of  absent  thoughtfulness ;  the  look  of  a  man 
of  science  on  the  track  of  a  problem. 

Delia's  aspect  was  one  of  pale  consternation.  She 
had  just  heard  that  the  only  hope  of  the  woman,  now 
wrestling  upstairs  with  agonies  of  pain,  lay  in  a  critical 
and  dangerous  operation,  for  which  at  least  a  fortnight's 
preliminary  treatment  would  be  necessary.  A  nurse 
was  to  be  sent  for  at  once,  and  the  only  question  to  be 
decided  was  where  and  by  whom  the  thing  was  to  be 
done. 

"We  can  move  her,"  said  France,  meditatively; 
"though  I'd  rather  not.  And  of  course  a  hospital  is 
the  best  place." 

"  She  won't  go !  Her  mother  died  in  a  hospital,  and 
Weston  thinks  she  was  neglected." 

"  Absurd !  I  assure  you,"  said  France  warmly. 
"  Nobody  is  neglected  in  hospitals." 

"  But  one  can't  persuade  her  —  and  if  she's  forced 
against  her  will,  it'll  give  her  no  chance !  "  said  Delia 
in  distress.  "  No,  it  must  be  here.  You  say  we  can 
get  a  good  man  from  Brownmouth?  " 

They  discussed  the  possibilities  of  an  operation  at 
Maumsey. 

Insensibly  the  doctor's  tone  during  the  conversation 
grew  more  friendly,  as  it  proceeded.     A  convinced  op- 


Delia  Blanchflower  20 5" 

ponent  of  "  feminism  "  in  all  its  fomis,  he  had  thouglit 
of  Delia  hitherto  as  merely  a  wrong-headed,  foolish 
girl,  and  could  hardly  bring  himself  to  be  civil  at  all  to 
her  chaperon,  who  in  his  eyes  belonged  to  a  criminal 
society,  and  was  almost  certainly  at  that  verj^  moment 
engaged  in  criminal  practices.  But  Delia,  absorbed  in 
the  distresses  of  someone  she  cared  for,  all  heart  and 
eager  sj'mpath}^,  her  loveliness  lending  that  charm  to 
all  she  said  and  looked  which  plainer  women  must  so 
frequently  do  without  was  a  very  mollifying  and  in- 
gratiating spectacle.  France  began  to  think  her  — 
misled  and  unbalanced  of  course  —  but  sound  at  bot- 
tom. He  ended  by  promising  to  make  all  arrangements 
himself,  and  to  go  in  that  very  afternoon  to  see  the 
great  man  at  Brownmouth. 

When  Delia  returned  to  her  maid's  room,  the  mor- 
phia Mhich  had  been  administered  was  beginning  to  take 
effect,  and  Weston,  an  elderly  woman  with  a  patient, 
pleasing  face,  lay  comparative!}^  at  rest,  her  tremulous 
look  expressing  at  once  the  keenness  of  the  suffering 
past,  and  the  bliss  of  respite.  Delia  bent  over  her,  dim- 
eyed. 

"  Dear  Weston  —  we've  arranged  it  all  —  it's  going 
to  be  done  here.  You'll  be  at  home  —  and  I  shall  look 
after  you." 

Weston  put  out  a  clammy  liand  and  faintly  pressed 
Delia's  wann  fingers  — 

"  But  you  were  going  to  London,  Miss.  I  don't  want 
to  put  you  out  so." 

"  I  shan't  go  till  you're  out  of  the  wood,  so  go  to 
sleep  —  and  don't  worry." 

"  Delia !  —  for  Heaven's  sake  be  reasonable.  Leave 
Weston  to  France,  and  a  couple  of  good  nurses.      She'll 


2o6  Delia  Blanchflower 

be    perfectly    looked    after.     You'll    put    out    all    our 
plans  —  you'll  risk  everything !  " 

Gertrude  Marvell  had  risen  from  her  seat  in  front 
of  a  crowded  desk.  The  secretary  who  generally 
worked  with  her  in  the  old  gun  room,  now  become  a 
militant  office,  had  disappeared  in  obedience  to  a  signal 
from  her  chief.  Anger  and  annoyance  were  plainly 
visible  on  Gertrude's  small  chiselled  features. 

Delia  shook  her  head. 

"  I  can't !  "  she  said.  "  I've  promised.  Weston  has 
pulled  me  through  two  bad  illnesses  —  once  when  I  had 
pneumonia  in  Paris  —  and  once  after  a  fall  out  riding. 
I  daresay  I  shouldn't  be  here  at  all,  but  for  her.  If  she's 
going  to  have  a  fight  for  her  life  —  and  Doctor  France 
doesn't  promise  she'll  get  through  • —  I  shall  stand  by 
her." 

Gertrude  grew  a  little  sallower  than  usual  as  her 
black  e3'es  fastened  themselves  on  the  girl  before  her 
who  had  hitherto  seemed  so  ductile  in  her  hands.  It 
was  not  so  much  the  incident  itself  that  alarmed  her 
as  a  certain  new  tone  in  Delia's  voice. 

"  I  thought  we  had  agreed  —  that  nothing  — noth- 
ing —  was  to  come  before  the  Cause !  "  she  said  quietly, 
but  Insistently. 

Delia's  laugh  was  embarrassed. 

"  I  never  promised  to  desert  Weston,  Gertrude.  I 
couldn't  —  any  more  than  I  could  desert  you." 

"  We  shall  want  every  hand  —  every  ounce  of  help 
that  can  be  got  —  through  January  and  February. 
You  undertook  to  do  some  office  work,  to  help  in  the 
organisation  of  the  processions  to  Parliament,  to  speak 
at  a  number  of  meetings " 

Delia  Interrupted. 

"  As  soon  as  Weston  is  out  of  danger,  I'll  go  —  of 


Delia  Blanchflower  207 

course  I'll  go !  —  about  a  month  from  now,  perhaps 
less.  You  will  have  the  flat,  Gertrude,  all  the  same,  and 
as  much  money  as  I  can  sci'ape  together  —  after  the 
operation's  paid  for.  I  don't  matter  a  tenth  part  as 
much  as  you,  you  know  I  don't ;  I  haven't  been  at  all  a 
success  at  these  meetings  lately ! " 

There  was  a  certain  young  bitterness  in  the  tone. 

"  Well,  of  course  you  know  what  people  will  say." 

"  That  I'm  shirking  —  giving  in  ?  Well,  you  can 
contradict  it." 

Delia  turned  from  the  window  beside  which  she  was 
standing  to  look  at  Gertrude.  A  pale  December  sun- 
shine shone  on  the  girl's  half-seen  face,  and  on  the  lines 
of  her  black  dress.  A  threatening  sense  of  change,  min- 
gled with  a  masterful  desire  to  break  down  the  resistance 
offered,  awoke  in  Gertrude.  But  she  restrained  the  dic- 
tatorial instinct.  Instead,  she  sat  down  beside  the  desk 
again,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hand. 

"  If  I  couldn't  contradict  it  —  if  I  couldn't  be  sure 
of  3^ou  —  I  might  as  well  kill  myself,"  she  said  with 
sudden  and  volcanic  passion,  though  in  a  voice  scarcely 
raised  above  its  ordinary'  note. 

Delia  came  to  her  impulsively,  knelt  down  and  put 
her  arms  round  her. 

"  You  know  you  can  be  sure  of  me !  "  she  said,  re- 
proachfully. 

Gertrude  held  her  away  from  her.  Her  eyes  ex- 
amined the  lovely  face  so  close  to  her. 

"  On  the  contrary  !  You  are  being  influenced  against 
me." 

Delia  laughed. 

"  By  whom,  please.'*  " 

"  By  the  man  who  has  you  in  his  power  —  under  our 
abominable  laws." 


2c8  Delia  Blanchflower 

"By  my  guardian?  —  by  Mark  Wlnnlngton? 
Really !  Gertrude !  Considering  that  I  had  a  fresh 
quarrel  with  him  only  last  week  —  on  your  account  — 
at  Monk  Lawrence " 

Gertrude  released  herself  b}'^  a  sudden  movement. 

"When  were  you  at  Monk  Lawrence?" 

"  Why,  that  afternoon,  when  you  were  in  town.  I 
missed  my  train  at  Latchford,  and  took  a  motor  home." 
There  was  some  consciousness  in  the  girl's  look  and  tone 
which  did  not  escape  her  companion.  She  was  evidently 
aware  that  her  silence  on  the  incident  might  appear 
strange  to  Gertrude.  However,  she  frankly  described 
her  adventure,  Daunt's  surliness,  and  Winnington's  ap- 
pearance. 

"  He  arrived  in  the  nick  of  time,  and  made  Daunt  let 
me  in.  Then,  while  we  were  going  round,  he  began 
to  talk  about  your  speech,  and  Avanted  to  make  me  say 
I  was  sorry  for  it.  And  I  wouldn't !  And  then  —  well, 
he  thought  very  poorly  of  me  —  and  vre  parted  — 
coolly.     We've  scarcely  met  since.      And  that's  all." 

"  What  speech  ? "  Gertrude  was  sitting  erect  now 
with  queerly  bright  eyes. 

"  The   speech  about   Sir  Wilfrid  —  at  Latchford." 

"  What  else  does  he  expect  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  —  well,  I  may  as  well  say, 
Gertrude  —  to  you,  though  I  wouldn't  say  it  to  him  — 
that  I  —  I  didn't  much  admire  that  speech  either !  " 

Delia  was  noAV  sitting  on  the  floor  with  her  hands 
round  her  knees,  looking  up.  The  slight  stiffening  of 
her  face  shewed  that  it  had  been  an  effort  to  say  what 
she  had  said. 

"  So  you  think  that  Lang  ought  to  be  approached 
with     '  bated     breath     and     whispering;    humbleness  ' — 


Delia  Blanchflower  209 

just  as  he  is  on  the  point  of  trampling  us  and  our  cause 
into  the  dirt?" 

"  No  —  certainly  not !  But  why  hasn't  he  as  good 
a  right  to  his  opinion  as  we  to  ours  —  without  being 
threatened  with  personal  violence?  " 

Gertrude  drew  a  long  breath  of  amazement. 

"I  don't  quite  see,  Delia,  why  you  ever  joined  the 
'  Daughters  ' —  or  why  you  stay  with  them." 

"  That's  not  fair !  " —  protested  Delia,  the  colour 
flooding  in  her  cheelis.  "  As  for  burning  stupid  villas  — 
that  are  empty  and  insured  —  or  boathouses  —  or 
piers  —  or  tea-pavilions,  to  heep  the  country  in  mind  of 
us, —  that's  one  thing.  But  threatening  persons  with 
violence  —  that's  —  somehow  —  another  thing.  And 
as  to  villas  and  piers  even  —  to  be  quite  honest  —  I 
sometimes  wonder,  Gertrude !  —  I  declare,  I'm  begin- 
ning to  wonder !  And  why  shouldn't  one  take  up  one's 
polic}-  from  time  to  time  and  look  at  it,  all  round,  with 
a  free  mind?  We  haven't  been  doing  particularly  well 
lately." 

Gertrude  laughed  —  a  dry,  embittered  sound  —  as 
she  pushed  the  Tocsin  from  her. 

"  Oh  well,  of  course,  if  you're  going  to  desert  us  in 
the  worst  of  the  fight,  and  to  follow  your  guardian's 
lead " 

"  But  I'm  not !  "  cried  Delia,  springing  to  her  feet. 
"  Try  me.  Haven't  I  promised  —  a  hundred  things  ? 
Didn't  I  say  all  j-ou  expected  me  to  sa}^  at  Latchford? 
And,  on  the  whole  " —  her  voice  dragged  a  little  — "  the 
empty  houses  and  the  cricket  pavilions  —  still  seem  to 
me  fair  game.  It's  only  —  as  to  the  good  it  does.  Of 
course  —  if  it  were  Monk  Lawrence " 

"  Well  —  if  it  were  j\Ionk  Lawrence  ?  " 


210  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  I  should  think  that  a  crime !     I  told  you  so  before." 

"Why?" 

Delia  looked  at  her  friend  with  a  contracted  brow. 

"  Because  —  it's  a  national  possession !  Lang's 
only  the  temporary  owner  —  the  trustee.  We've  no 
right  to  destroy  what  belongs  to  England." 

Gertrude  laughed  again  —  as  she  rose  from  the  tea- 
table. 

"  Well,  as  long  as  women  are  slaves,  I  don't  see  what 
England  matters  to  them.  However,  don't  trouble 
yourself.  Monk  Lawrence  is  all  right.  And  Mr. 
Winnington's  a  charmer  —  we  all  know  that." 

Delia  flushed  angrily.  But  Gertrude,  having 
gathered  up  her  papers,  quietly  departed,  leaving  her 
final  shaft  to  work. 

Delia  went  back  to  her  own  sitting-room,  but  was 
too  excited,  too  tremulous  indeed,  to  settle  to  her  let- 
ters. She  had  never  yet  found  herself  in  direct  col- 
lision with  Gertrude,  impetuous  as  her  own  temper  was. 
Their  friendship  had  now  lasted  nearly  three  years. 
She  looked  back  to  their  West  Indian  acquaintance,  that 
first  year  of  adoration,  of  long-continued  emotion, — 
mind  and  heart  growing  and  blossoming  together. 
Gertrude,  during  that  3^ear,  had  not  only  aroused  her 
pupil's  intelligence ;  she  had  taught  a  motherless  girl 
what  the  love  of  women  may  be  for  each  other.  To 
make  Gertrude  happy,  to  be  approved  by  her,  to  watch 
her,  to  sit  at  her  feet  —  the  girl  of  nineteen  had  asked 
nothing  more.  Gertrude's  accomplishments,  her  cool- 
ness, her  self-reliance,  the  delicate  precision  of  her 
small  features  and  frame,  the  grace  of  her  quiet  move- 
ments, her  cold  sincerity,  the  unyielding  scorns,  the 
passionate  loves  and  hates  that  were  gradually  to  be 
discovered  below  the  even  dryness  of  her  manner, —  by 


Delia  Blanchflower  211 

these  Delia  had  been  captured ;  by  these  indeed,  she  was 
still  held.  Gertrude  was  to  her  everything  that  she 
herself  was  not.  And  when  her  father  had  insisted  on 
separating  her  from  her  friend,  her  wild  resentment,  and 
her  girlish  longing  for  the  forbidden  had  c  nly  increased 
Gertrude's  charm  tenfold. 

The  eighteen  months  of  their  separation,  too,  had  co- 
incided with  the  rise  of  that  violent  episode  in  the  femin- 
ist movement  which  was  represented  by  the  founding  and 
organisation  of  the  "  Daughters "  society.  Gertrude 
though  not  one  of  the  first  contrivers  and  instigators  of 
it,  had  been  among  the  earliest  of  its  converts.  Its 
initial  successes  had  been  the  subject  of  all  her  letters 
to  Delia;  Delia  had  walked  on  air  to  read  them.  At 
last  the  world  was  moving,  was  rushing  —  and  it  seemed 
that  Gertrude  was  in  the  van.  Women  were  at  last 
coming  to  their  own ;  forcing  men  to  acknowledge  them 
as  equals  and  comrades ;  and  able  to  win  victory,  not  by 
the  old  whining  and  wheedling,  but  by  their  own 
strength.  The  intoxication  of  it  filled  the  girl's  days 
and  nights.  She  thought  endlessly  of  processions  and 
raids,  of  street-preaching,  or  Hyde  Park  meetings. 
Gertrude  went  to  prison  for  a  few  days  as  the  result  of 
a  raid  on  Downing  Street.  Delia,  in  one  dull  hotel 
after  another,  wearily  following  her  father  from  "  cure  " 
to  "  cure,"  dreamed  hungrily  and  enviously  of  Ger- 
trude's more  heroic  fate.  Everything  in  those  days 
was  haloed  for  her  —  the  Movement,  its  first  violent 
acts,  what  Gertrude  did,  and  what  Gertrude  thought  — 
she  saw  it  all  transfigured  and  aflame. 

And  now,  since  her  father's  death,  the}'  had  been 
four  months  together  —  she  and  her  friend  —  in  the 
closest  intimacy,  sharing  —  or  so  Delia  supposed  — 
every    thought    and    every    prospect.     Delia    for    the 


212  Delia  Blanchfiower 

greater  part  of  that  time  had  been  all  glad  submission 
and  unquestioning  response.  It  was  quite  natural  — 
absolutely  right  —  that  Gertrude  should  command  her 
house,  her  money,  her  daily  life.  She  only  waited  for 
Gertrude's  orders  ;  it  would  be  her  pride  to  carry  them 
out.     Until 

What  had  happened?  The  girl,  standing  motion- 
less beside  her  window,  confessed  to  herself,  as  she  had 
not  been  willing  to  confess  to  Gertrude,  that  something 
had  happened  ■ —  some  change  of  climate  and  tempera- 
ture in  her  own  life. 

In  the  first  place,  the  Movement  was  not  prospering. 
Why  deny  it?  Who  could  deny  it?  Its  first  successes 
were  long  past ;  its  uses  as  advertisement  were  ex- 
hausted ;  the  old  violences  and  audacities,  as  they  were 
repeated,  fell  dead.  The  cause  of  Woman  Suffrage 
had  certainly  not  advanced.  Check  after  check  had 
been  inflicted  on  it.  The  number  of  its  supporters  in 
the  House  of  Commons  had  gone  down  and  down.  By- 
elections  were  only  adding  constantly  to  the  number  of 
its  opponents. 

"Well,  what  then?" — said  the  stalwarts  of  the 
party  — "  More  outrages,  more  arson,  more  violence ! 
We  must  win  at  last ! "  And,  meanwhile,  blowing 
through  England  like  a  steadily  increasing  gale,  could 
be  felt  the  force  of  public  anger,  public  condemnation. 

Delia  since  her  return  to  England  had  felt  the  chill 
of  it,  for  the  first  time,  on  her  own  nerves  and  con- 
science. For  the  first  time  she  had  winced  —  morally  — • 
even  while  she  mocked  at  her  own  shrinking. 

Was  that  Gertrude  pacing  outside?  The  day  was 
dark  and  stormy.  But  Gertrude,  who  rarely  took  a 
walk  for  pleasure,  scarcely  ever  missed  the  exercise 
which  was  necessary  to  keep  her  in  health.      Her  slight 


Delia  Blanchflower  213 

figure,  wrapped  in  a  fur  cape,  paced  a  sheltered  walk. 
Her  shoulders  were  bent,  her  eyes  on  the  ground.  Sud- 
denly it  struck  Delia  that  she  had  begun  to  stoop,  that 
she  looked  older  and  thinner  than  usual. 

"  She  is  killing  herself !  " —  thought  the  girl  in  a  sud- 
den anguish  — "  killing  herself  with  v.ork  and  anxiety. 
And  yet  she  always  says  she  is  so  strong.  What  can  I 
do.''  There  is  nobody  that  matters  to  her  —  nobod}' !  — • 
but  me !  " 

And  she  recalled  all  she  knew  —  it  was  very  little  — 
of  Gertrude's  personal  history.  She  had  been  unhappy 
at  home.  Pier  mother,  a  widow,  had  never  been  able  to 
get  on  with  her  elder  daughter,  Avhile  petting  and  spoil- 
ing her  only  son  and  her  j-ounger  girl,  who  was  ten 
years  Gertrude's  junior.  Gertrude  had  been  left  a 
small  sum  of  money  by  a  woman  friend,  and  had  spent 
it  in  going  to  a  west-country  university  and  taking 
honours  in  history.  She  never  spoke  now  of  either  her 
mother  or  her  sister.  Her  sister  was  married,  but 
Gertrude  held  no  communication  with  her  or  her  chil- 
dren. Delia  had  always  felt  it  impossible  to  ask  ques- 
tions about  her,  and  believed,  Avith  a  thrilled  sense  of 
m3^ster3',  that  some  tragic  incident  or  experience  had 
separated  the  two  sisters.  Her  brother  also,  it  seemed, 
was  as  dead  to  her.  But  on  all  such  personal  matters 
Gertrude's  silence  was  insuperable,  and  Delia  knew  no 
more  of  them  than  on  the  first  day  of  their  meeting. 

Indomitable  figure!  Worn  with  effort  and  strug- 
gle—  worn  above  all  with  hating.  Delia  looked  at  it 
with  a  sob  in  her  throat.  Surely,  surely,  the  great 
passion,  the  great  uplifting  faith  they  had  felt  in  com- 
mon, was  vital,  was  true !  Only,  somehow,  after  the 
large  dreams  and  hopes  of  the  early  days,  to  come  down 
to  this  perpetual  campaign  of  petty  law-breaking,  and 


214  Delia  Blanchflower 

futile  outrage,  to  these  odious  meetings  and  shrieking 
newspapers,  was  to  be  —  well,  discouraged !  —  heart- 
wearied. 

"  Only,  she  is  not  wearied,  or  discouraged !  "  thought 
Delia,  despairingly.     "  And  why  am  I  ?  " 

Was  it  hatefully  true  —  after  all  —  that  she  was  be- 
ing influenced  —  drawn  awa}^  ? 

The  girl  flushed,  breathing  quick.  She  must  master 
herself !  —  get  rid  of  this  foolish  obsession  of  Winning- 
ton's  presence  and  voice  —  of  a  pair  of  grave,  kind 
eyes  —  a  look  now  perplexed,  now  sternly  bright  —  a 
personality,  limited  no  doubt,  not  very  accessible  to 
what  Gertrude  called  "  ideas,"  not  quick  to  catch  the 
last  new  thing,  but  honest,  noble,  tender,  through  and 
through. 

Absurd !  She  was  holding  her  own  with  him ;  she 
would  hold  her  own.  That  very  day  she  must  grapple 
with  him  afresh.  She  had  sent  him  a  note  that  morning, 
and  he  had  replied  in  a  message  that  he  would  ride  over 
to  luncheon. 

For  the  question  of  money  was  urgent.  Delia  was 
already  overdrawn.  Yet  supplies  were  wanted  for  tlie 
newly  rented  flat,  for  Weston's  operation,  for  Gertrude's 
expenses  in  London  —  for  a  hundred  things. 

She  paced  up  and  down,  imagining  the  conversation, 
framing  eloquent  defences  for  her  conduct,  and  again, 
from  time  to  time,  meanly,  shamefacedly  reminding  her- 
self of  Winnington's  benefit  under  the  will.  If  she 
was  a  nuisance,  she  was  at  least  a  fairly  profitable  nuis- 


Winnington  duly  arrived  at  luncheon.  The  two 
ladies  appeared  to  him  as  usual  —  Gertrude  Marvell, 
self-possessed  and  quietly  gay,  ready  to  handle  politics 


Delia  Blanchflower  215 

or  books,  on  so  light  a  note,  that  Winnington's  acute 
recollection  of  her,  as  the  haranguing  fury  on  the  Latch- 
ford  waggon,  began  to  seem  absurd  even  to  himself. 
Delia  also,  lovely,  restless,  with  bursts  of  talk,  and  more 
significant  bursts  of  silence,  produced  on  him  her  nor- 
mal effect  —  as  of  a  creature  made  for  all  delightful 
uses,  and  somehow  jangled  and  out  of  tune. 

After  luncheon,  she  led  the  way  to  her  own  sitting- 
room.  "  I  am  afraid  I  must  talk  business,"  she  said 
abruptly  as  she  closed  the  door  and  stood  confronting 
him.  "  I  am  overdrawn,  Mr.  Winnington,  and  I  must 
have  some  more  money." 

Winnington  laid  down  his  cigarette,  and  looked  at 
her  in  open-mouthed  amazement. 

"  Overdrawn !  —  but  —  we  agreed " 

"  I  know.  You  gave  me  what  you  thought  was  am- 
ple. Well,  I  have  spent  it,  and  there  is  nothing  left 
to  pay  house  bills,  or  servants  with,  or  —  or  anything." 

Her  pale  defiance  gave  him  at  once  a  hint  of  the 
truth. 

"  I  fear  I  must  ask  what  it  has  been  spent  on,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause. 

"  Certainly.  I  gave  £500  of  It  in  one  cheque  to  Miss 
Marvell.  Of  course  j^ou  will  guess  how  it  has  been 
spent." 

Winnington  took  up  his  cigarette  again,  and  smoked 
it  thoughtfully.  His  colour  was,  perhaps,  a  little 
higher  than  usual. 

*'  I  am  sorry  you  have  done  that.  It  makes  It  rather 
awkward  both  for  you  and  for  me.  Perhaps  I  had 
better  explain.  The  lawyers  have  been  settling  the 
debts  on  your  father's  estate.  That  took  a  consider- 
able sum.  A  mortgage  has  been  paid  off,  according 
to  directions   in   Sir  Robert's  will.     And  some   of   the 


2i6  Delia  Blanchflower 

death  duties  have  been  paid.  For  the  moment  there  is 
no  money  at  ail  in  tlie  Trust  account.  I  hope  to  have 
replenislied  it  by  the  Nct^-  Year,  when  I  understood  you 
would  want  fresli  funds." 

He  sat  on  the  arm  of  a  chair  and  looked  at  her 
quietly. 

Delia  made  no  attempt  at  explanation  or  argument. 
After  a  short  silence,  she  said  — 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"  I  must,  of  course,  lend  you  some  of  my  own." 

Delia  flushed  violently. 

"  That  is  surely  absurd,  Mr.  Winnington !  My 
father  left  a  large  sum !  " 

"  As  his  trustee  I  can  only  repeat  that  until  some 
further  securities  are  realised  —  which  may  take  a  lit- 
tle time  —  I  have  no  money.  But  you  must  have 
money  —  servants  and  tradesmen  can't  go  unpaid.  I 
will  give  you,  therefore,  a  cheque  on  my  own  bank  —  to 
replace  that  £500." 

He  drew  his  cheque  book  from  his  breast  pocket. 
Delia  was  stormily  walking  up  and  down.  It  struck 
him  sharply,  first  that  she  was  wholly  taken  by  sur- 
prise; and  next  that  shock  and  emotion  play  finely 
with  such  a  face  as  hers.  He  had  never  seen  her  so 
splendid.     His  own  pulses  ran. 

"  This  —  this  is  not  at  all  what  I  want,  Mr.  Win- 
nington !  I  want  my  own  money  —  my  father's  mone}' ! 
Why  should  I  distress  and  inconvenience  you.?  " 

"  I  have  tried  to  explain." 

"  Then  let  the  lawyers  find  it  somehow.  Aren't  tliey 
there  to  do  such  things  ?  " 

"  I  assure  you  this  is  simplest.  I  happen  " —  he 
smiled  — "  to  have  enough  in  the  bank.  Alice  and  I  can 
manage  quite  well  till  January !  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  217 

The  mention  of  Mrs.  Matheson  was  quite  intolerable 
in  Delia's  ears.      She  turned  upon  him  — 

"  I  can't  accept  it !     You  oughtn't  to  ask  it." 

"  I  think  you  must  accept  it,"  he  said  with  decision. 
"  But  the  important  question  with  me  is  —  the  further 
question  —  am  I  not  really  bound  to  restore  this  money 
to  your  father's  estate  ?  " 

Delia  stared  at  him  bewildered. 

"  What  do  you  mean !  " 

"  Your  father  made  me  his  tinistee  In  order  that  I 
might  protect  his  money  —  from  uses  of  which  he  dis- 
approved —  and  protect  you,  if  I  could,  from  actions 
and  companions  he  dreaded.  This  £500  has  gone  — 
where  he  expressly  wished  it  not  to  go.  It  seems  to  me 
that  I  am  liable,  and  that  I  ought  to  repay." 

Delia  gasped. 

"  I  never  heard  anything  so  absurd !  " 

"  I  will  consider  It,"  he  said  gravely.  "  It  Is  a  case 
of  conscience.  ]MeanwhIle  " —  he  began  to  write  the 
cheque  — "  here  Is  the  raone}^  Only,  let  me  warn  3'^ou, 
dear  Miss  Delia, —  If  this  were  repeated,  I  might  find 
myself  embarrassed.     I  am  not  a  rich  man !  " 

Silence.  He  finished  writing  the  cheque,  and  handed 
it  to  her.  Delia  pushed  It  awa^^,  and  It  dropped  on  the 
table  between  them. 

"  It  Is  simply  tjn-anny  —  monstrous  tyranny  —  that 
I  should  be  coerced  like  this  !  "  she  said,  choking.  "  You 
must  feel  It  so  yourself !  Put  3'ourself  in  my  place,  ]\Ir. 
WInnlngton." 

"  I  think  —  I  am  first  bound  —  to  try  and  put  myself 
in  your  father's  place,"  he  said,  with  vivacity.  "  Where 
has  that  money  gone,  Miss  Delia. ^  " 

He  rose,  and  in  his  turn  began  to  pace  the  little 
room.     "  It  has  been  proved.  In  evidence,  that  a  great 


2i8  Delia  Blanchflower 

deal  of  this  outrage  is  paid  outrage  —  that  it  could  not 
be  carried  on  without  money  —  however  madly  and 
fanatically  devoted,  however  personally  disinterested  the 
organisers  of  it  may  be  —  such  as  Miss  Marvell.  You 
have,  therefore,  taken  your  father's  money  to  provide 
for  this  payment  —  payment  for  all  that  his  soul  most 
abhorred.  His  will  was  his  last  painful  effort  to  pre- 
vent this  being  done.     And  yet  —  you  have  done  it !  " 

He  looked  at  her  steadily. 

"  One  may  seem  to  do  evil  " —  she  panted  — "  but  we 
have  a  faith,  a  cause,  which  justifies  it!" 

He  shook  his  head  sadly. 

Delia  sat  very  still,  tormented  by  a  score  of  harass- 
ing thoughts.  If  she  could  not  provide  money  for  the 
"  Daughters  "  what  particular  use  could  she  be  to  Ger- 
trude, or  Gertrude's  Committee?  She  could  speak,  and 
walk  in  processions,  and  break  up  meetings.  But  so 
could  hundreds  of  others.  It  was  her  fortune  —  she 
knew  it  —  that  had  made  her  so  important  in  Ger- 
trude's eyes.  It  had  always  been  assumed  between 
them  that  a  little  daring  and  a  little  adroitness  would 
break  through  the  meshes  of  her  father's  will.  And 
how  difficult  it  was  turning  out  to  be! 

At  that  moment,  an  idea  occurred  to  her.  Her  face, 
responsive  as  a  wave  to  the  wind,  relaxed.  Its  sullen- 
ness  disappeared  in  sudden  brightness  —  in  something 
like  triumph.  She  raised  her  eyes.  Their  tremulous, 
half  whimsical  look  set  Winnington  wondering  what 
she  could  be  going  to  say  next. 

"  You  seem  to  have  beaten  me,"  she  said,  with  a 
little  nod  — "  or  you  think  you  have." 

"  I  have  no  thoughts  that  you  mightn't  know,"  was 
the  quiet  reply. 

"  You  want  me  to  promise  not  to  do  it  again .''  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  219 

"  If  you  mean  to  keep  it." 

As  he  stood  by  the  fire,  looking  down  upon  her  rather 
sternly  • —  she  yet  perceived  in  his  grey  eyes,  something 
of  that  expression  she  had  seen  there  at  their  first  meet- 
ing —  as  though  the  heart  of  a  good  man  tried  to  speak 
to  her.  The  same  expression  —  and  yet  different ;  with 
something  added  and  interfused,  which  moved  her 
strangely. 

"  Odd  as  it  may  seem,  I  will  keep  it ! "  she  said. 
*'  Yet  without  giving  up  any  earlier  purpose,  or  prom- 
ise, whatever."     Each  word  was  emphasized. 

His  face  changed. 

"  I  won't  worry  you  in  any  such  way  again,"  she 
added  hastily  and  proudly. 

Some  other  words  were  on  her  lips,  but  she  checked 
them.  She  held  out  her  hand  for  the  cheque,  and  the 
smile  with  which  she  accepted  it,  after  her  preceding 
passion,  puzzled  him. 

She  locked  up  the  cheque  in  a  drawer  of  her  w  riting- 
table.  Winnington's  horse  passed  the  window^,  and  he 
rose  to  go.  She  accompanied  him  to  the  hall  door  and 
waved  a  light  farewell.  Winnington's  response  was 
ceremonious.  A  sure  instinct  told  him  to  shew  no  fur- 
ther softness.  Plis  dilemma  was  getting  worse  and 
worse,  and  Lady  Tonbridge  had  been  no  use  to  him  what- 
ever. 


Chapter  XII 

jNE  of  the  first  days  of  the  New  year  rose  clear 
and  frosty.  When  the  young  housemaid  who  had 
temporarily  replaced  Weston  as  Delia's  maid  drew  back 
her  curtains  at  half-past  seven,  Delia  caught  a  vision 
of  an  opaline  sky  with  a  sinking  moon  and  fading  stars. 
A  strewing  of  snow  lay  on  the  ground,  and  the  bare 
black  trees  rose,  vividW  separate,  on  the  white  stretches 
of  grass.  Her  window  looked  to  the  north  along  the 
bases  of  the  low  range  of  hills  which  shut  in  the  valley 
and  the  village.  A  patch  of  paler  colour  on  the  purple 
slope  of  the  hills  marked  the  long  front  of  JMonk  Law- 
rence. 

As  she  sleepily  roused  herself,  she  saw  her  bed  lit- 
tered v.ith  dark  objects  —  two  leather  boxes  of  some 
size,  and  a  number  of  miscellaneous  cases  —  and  when 
the  maid  had  left  the  room,  she  lay  still,  looking  at  them. 
They  were  the  signs  and  symbols  of  an  enquiry  she 
had  lately  been  conducting  into  her  possessions,  which 
seemed  to  her  to  have  yielded  very  satisfactory  re- 
sults. They  represented  in  the  main  the  contents  of 
a  certain  cupboard  in  the  wall  of  her  bedroom  where 
Lady  Blanchflower  had  always  kept  her  jewels,  and 
where,  in  consequence,  Weston  had  so  far  locked  away 
all  that  Delia  possessed.  Here  were  all  her  own  girl- 
ish ornaments  —  costly  things  which  her  father  had 
given  her  at  intervals  during  the  three  or  four  j^ears 
since  her  coming  out;  here  were  her  Mother's  jewels, 
which  Sir  Robert  had  sent  to  his  bankers  after  his  wife's 


Delia  Blanchflower  221 

death,  and  had  never  seen  again  during  his  lifetime ;  and 
here  were  also  a  number  of  family  jewels  which  had 
belonged  to  Delia's  grandmother,  and  had  remained, 
after  Lady  Blanchflower's  death,  in  the  custody  of  the 
family  lawyers,  till  Delia,  to  whom  they  had  been  left  by 
will,  had  appeared  to  claim  them. 

Delia  had  always  known  that  she  possessed  a  quan- 
tity of  valuable  things,  and  had  hitherto  felt  but  small 
interest  in  them.  Gertrude's  influence,  and  her  own 
idealism  had  bred  In  her  contempt  for  gauds.  It  was 
the  worst  of  breeding  to  wear  anything  for  its  mere 
money  value;  and  nothing  whatever  should  be  worn 
that  wasn't  in  itself  beautiful.  Lady  Blanchflower's 
taste  had  been,  in  Delia's  eyes,  abominable ;  and  her 
diamonds, —  tiaras,  pendants  and  the  rest  —  had  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  recommend  them  but  their  sheer  brute 
cost.  After  a  few  glances  at  them,  the  girl  had  shut 
them  up  and  forgotten  them. 

But  they  were  diamonds,  and  they  must  be  worth 
some  thousands. 

It  was  this  idea  which  had  flashed  upon  her  during 
her  last  talk  with  Winnington,  and  she  had  been  brood- 
ing over  it,  and  pondering  it  ever  since.  Winnington 
himself  was  away.  He  and  his  sister  had  been  spend- 
ing Christmas  with  some  cousins  in  the  midlands. 
Meanwhile  Delia  recognised  that  his  relation  to  her 
had  been  somewhat  strained.  His  letters  to  her  on 
various  points  of  business  had  been  more  formal  than 
usual ;  and  though  he  had  sent  her  a  pocket  Keats 
for  a  Christmas  present,  it  had  arrived  accompanied 
merely  by  his  "  kind  regards  "  and  she  had  felt  un- 
reasonably aggrieved,  and  much  inclined  to  send  it 
back.  His  cheque  meanwhile  for  £500  had  gone  into 
Delia's    bank.      No    help    for    it  —  considering   all   the 


222  Delia  Blanchflower 

Christmas  bills  which  had  been  pouring  in !  But  she 
panted  for  the  time  when  she  could  return  it. 

As  for  his  threat  of  permanently  refunding  the 
money  out  of  his  own  pocket,  she  remembered  it  with 
soreness  of  spirit.     Too  bad ! 

Well,  there  they  lay,  on  the  counterpane  all  round 
her  —  the  means  of  checkmating  her  guardian.  For 
while  she  was  rummaging  in  the  wall-safe,  the  night 
before,  suddenly  the  fire  had  gone  down,  and  the  room 
had  sunk  to  freezing  point.  Delia,  brought  up  in 
warm  climates,  had  jumped  shivering  into  bed,  and 
there,  heaped  round  with  the  contents  of  the  cupboard, 
had  examined  a  few  more  cases,  till  sleep  and  cold  over- 
powered her. 

In  the  grey  morning  light  she  opened  some  of  the 
cases  again.  Vulgar  and  ugly,  if  you  like  —  but  un- 
deniably, absurdly  worth  money!  Her  dark  eyes 
caught  the  sparkle  of  the  jewels  running  through  her 
fingers.  These  tasteless  things  —  mercifully  —  were 
her  own  —  her  very  own.  Winnington  had  nothing  to 
say  to  them  !  She  could  wear  them  —  or  give  them  — 
or  sell  them,  as  she  pleased. 

She  was  alternately  exultant,  and  strangely  full  of 
a  fluttering  anxiety.  The  thought  of  returning  Win- 
nington's  cheque  was  sweet  to  her.  But  her  disputes 
with  him  had  begun  to  cost  her  more  than  she  had  ever 
imagined  they  could  or  would.  And  the  particular  way 
out,  which,  a  few  weeks  before,  she  had  so  impatiently 
desired  —  that  he  should  resign  the  guardianship,  and 
leave  her  to  battle  with  the  Court  of  Chancery  as  best 
she  could  —  was  no  longer  so  attractive  to  her.  To  be 
cherished  and  cared  for  by  Mark  Winnington  —  no 
woman  yet,  but  had  found  it  delightful.  Insensibly 
Delia   had   grown   accustomed   to   it  —  to  his    comings 


Delia  Blanchflower  223 

and  goings,  his  business-ways,  abrupt  sometimes,  even 
peremptory,  but  informed  always  by  a  kindness,  a  self- 
lessness that  amazed  her.  Everyone  wanted  his  help 
or  advice,  and  he  must  refuse  now  —  as  he  had  never 
refused  before  —  because  his  time  and  thoughts  were 
so  much  taken  up  with  his  ward's  affairs.  Delia  knew 
that  she  was  envied;  and  knew  also  that  the  neighbours 
thought  her  an  ungrateful,  unmanageable  hoyden, 
totally  unworthy  of  such  devotion. 

She  sat  up  in  bed,  dreaming,  her  hands  round  her 
knees.  No,  she  didn't  want  Winnington  to  give  her 
up !  Especially  since  she  had  found  this  easy  way  out. 
Why  should  there  be  any  more  friction  between  them 
at  all?  All  that  he  gave  her  henceforward  should  be 
religiously  spent  on  the  normal  and  necessary  things. 
She  would  keep  accounts  if  he  liked,  like  any  good  little 
girl,  and  shew  them  up.  Let  him  do  with  the  trust 
fund  exactly  what  he  pleased.  For  a  long  time  at  any 
rate,  she  could  be  independent  of  it.  Why  had  she 
never  thought  of  such  a  device  before? 

But  how  to  realise  the  jewels?  In  all  business  af- 
fairs, Delia  was  the  merest  child.  She  had  been  brought 
up  in  the  midst  of  large  expenditure,  of  which  she  had 
been  quite  unconscious.  All  preoccupation  with  money 
had  seemed  to  her  mean  and  pettifogging.  Have  it ! 
—  and  spend  it  on  what  you  want.  But  wants  must 
be  governed  by  ideas  —  by  ethical  standards.  To 
waste  money  on  personal  luxury,  on  eating,  drinking, 
clothes,  or  any  form  of  mere  display,  in  such  a  world 
as  Gertrude  Marvell  had  unveiled  to  her,  seemed  to 
Delia  contemptible  and  idiotic.  One  must  have  some 
nice  clothes  —  some  beauty  in  one's  surroundings  — 
and  the  means  of  living  as  one  wished  to  live.  Other- 
wise, to  fume  and  fret  about  money,  to  be  coveting  in- 


224  Delia  Blanchflower 

stead  of  giving,  buying  and  bargaining,  instead  of 
thinking  —  or  debating  —  was  degrading.  She 
loathed  shopping.  It  was  the  drug  which  put  women's 
minds  to  sleep. 

Who  would  help  her?  She  pondered.  She  would 
tell  no  one  till  it  was  done ;  not  even  Gertrude,  whose 
cold,  changed  manner  to  her  hurt  the  girl's  proud 
sense  to  think  of. 

"  I  must  do  it  properly  —  I  won't  be  cheated !  " 

The  London  lawyers.''  No.  The  local  solicitor,  Mr. 
Masham  ?  No !  Her  vanity  was  far  too  keenly  con- 
scious of  their  real  opinion  of  her,  through  all  their 
politeness. 

Lady  Tonbrldge?  No!  She  was  Mark  Winning- 
ton's  intimate  friend  —  and  a  constitutional  Suffragist. 
At  the  notion  of  consulting  her, —  on  the  means  of 
providing  funds  for  "  militancy  " —  Delia  sprang  out 
of  bed,  and  went  to  her  dressing,  dissolved  in 
laughter. 

And  presently  —  sobered  again,  and  soft-eyed  — 
she  was  stealing  along  the  passage  to  Weston's  door 
for  a  word  with  the  trained  nurse  who  was  now  in 
charge.     Just  a  week  now  —  to  the  critical  day. 

"Is  Miss  Marvell  In?  Ask  If  she  will  see  Mr.  Lath- 
rop  for  a  few  minutes  ?  " 

Paul  Lathrop,  left  to  himself,  looked  round  Delia's 
drawing-room.  It  set  his  teeth  on  edge.  What  pic- 
tures —  what  furniture !  A  certain  mellowness  born  of 
sheer  time,  no  doubt  —  but  with  all  its  ugly  ingredients 
still  repulsively  visible.  Why  didn't  the  heiress  burn 
everything  and  begin  again?  Was  all  her  money  to  be 
spent  on  burning  other  people's  property,  when  her  own 
was  so  desperately  In  need  of  the  purging  process  — 


Delia  Blanchflower  225 

or  on  dreary  meetings  and  unreadable  newspapers? 
Lathrop  vras  already  tired  of  these  delights ;  his  essen- 
tially Hedonist  temper  was  re-asserting  itself.  The 
"  movement "  had  excited  and  interested  lidm  for  a 
time ;  had  provided  besides  easy  devices  for  annoying 
stupid  people.  He  had  been  eager  to  speak  and  write 
for  it,  had  persuaded  himself  that  he  really  cared. 

But  now  candour  —  and  he  was  generally  candid 
with  himself  —  made  him  confess  that  but  for  Delia 
Blanchflower  he  would  already  have  cut  his  connection 
with  the  whole  thing.  He  thought  with  a  mixture  of 
irony  and  discomfort  of  his  "  high-falutin  "  letter  to 
her. 

"  And  here  I  am  —  hanging  round  her  " —  he  said  to 
himself,  as  he  strolled  about  the  room,  peering  through* 
his  eye-glass  at  its  common  vases,  and  trivial  knick- 
knacks — "just  because  Blaydes  bothers  me.  I  might 
as  well  cry  for  the  moon.  But  she's  worth  watching, 
by  Jove.  One  gets  copy  out  of  her,  if  nothing  else ! 
I  vow  I  can't  understand  why  my  dithyrambs  move  her 
so  little  —  she's  dith^-rambic  enough  herself !  " 

The  door  opened.  He  quickly  pulled  himself  to- 
gether. Gertrude  ]Marv'ell  came  in,  and  as  she  gave 
him  an  absent  greeting,  he  was  vaguely  struck  by  some 
change  in  her  aspect,  as  Delia  had  long  been.  She 
had  always  seemed  to  him  a  cold  half-human  being,  in 
all  ordinary  matters.  But  now  she  was  paler,  thinner, 
more  remote  than  ever.  "  Nerves  strained  —  probably 
sleepless  — "  he  said  to  himself.  "  It's  the  pace  they 
will  live  at  —  it  kills  them  all." 

This  kind  of  comment  ran  at  the  back  of  his  brain, 
while  he  plunged  into  the  "  business  " —  which  was  his 
pretence  for  calling.  Gertrude,  as  a  District  Organ- 
izer of  the  League  of  Revolt,  had  intrusted  him  with 


226  Delia  Blanchflower 

the  running  of  various  meetings  in  small  places,  along 
the  coast,  for  which  it  humiliated  him  to  remember  that 
he  had  agreed  to  be  paid.  For  at  his  very  first  call 
upon  them.  Miss  Marvell  had  divined  his  impecunious 
state,  and  pounced  upon  him  as  an  agent, —  unknown, 
he  thought,  to  Miss  Blanchflower.  He  came  now  to 
report  what  had  been  done,  and  to  ask  if  the  meetings- 
should  be  continued. 

Gertrude  Marvell  shook  her  head. 

"  I  have  had  some  letters  about  your  meetings.  I 
doubt  whether  they  have  been  worth  while." 

Miss  Marvell's  manner  was  that  of  an  employer  to 
an  employee.     Lathrop's  vanity  winced. 

"  May  I  know  what  was  wrong  with  them  ?  " 

Gertrude  Marvell  considered.  Her  gesture,  uncon- 
sciously judicial,  annoyed  Lathrop  still  further. 

"  Too  much  argument,  I  hear, —  and  too  little  feel- 
ing. Our  people  wanted  more  about  the  women  in 
prison.  And  it  was  thought  that  you  apologised  too 
much  for  the  outrages." 

The  last  word  emerged  quite  simply,  as  the  only  fit- 
ting one. 

Lathrop  laughed, —  rather  angrily. 

"  You  must  be  aware,  Miss  Marvell,  that  the  public 
thinks  they  want  defence." 

"  Not  from  us !  "  she  said,  with  energy.  "  No  one 
speaking  for  us  must  ever  apologise  for  militant  acts. 
It  takes  all  the  heart  out  of  our  people.  Justify  them 
—  glory  in  them  —  as  much  as  you  like." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Then  you  have  no  more  work  for  me?  "  said  La- 
throp at  last. 

"  We  need  not,  I  think,  trouble  3'ou  again.  Your 
cheque  will  of  course  be  sent  from  head-quarters." 


Delia  Blanchflower  227 

"  That  doesn't  matter,"  said  Lathrop,  hastily. 

The  reflection  crossed  his  mind  that  there  is  an  in- 
solence of  women  far  more  odious  than  the  insolence  of 
men. 

"  After  all  they  are  our  inferiors !  It  doesn't  do  to 
let  them  command  us,"  he  thought,  furiously. 

He  rose  to  take  his  leave. 

"  You  are  going  up  to  London?  " 

"  I  am  going.  Miss  Blanchflower  stays  behind,  be- 
cause her  maid  is  ill." 

He  stood  hesitating.  Gertrude  lifted  her  eyebrows 
as  though  he  puzzled  her.  She  never  had  liked  him, 
and  by  now  all  her  instincts  were  hostile  to  him.  His 
clumsy  figure,  and  slovenly  dress  off'ended  her,  and  the 
touch  of  something  grandiose  in  his  heavy  brow,  and 
reddish-gold  hair,  seemed  to  her  merely  theatrical. 
Her  information  was  that  he  had  been  no  use  as  a 
campaigner.  Why  on  earth  did  he  keep  her  wait- 
ing.? 

"  I  suppose  30U  have  heard  some  of  the  talk  going 
about.?  "  he  said  at  last,  shooting  out  the  words. 

"What  talk?" 

*'  They're  very  anxious  about  Monk  Lawrence  — 
after  your  speech.  And  there  are  absurd  stories. 
Women  have  been  seen  —  at  night  —  and  so  on." 

Gertrude  laughed. 

"  The  more  panic  the  better  —  for  us." 

"  Yes  —  so  long  as  it  stops  there.  But  if  anything 
happened  to  that  place,  the  whole  neighbourhood  would 
turn  detective  —  myself  included." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily.  She  leant  one  thin  hand 
on  a  table  behind  her. 

"  No  one  of  course  would  have  a  better  chance  than 
you.     You  are  so  near." 


228  Delia  Blanchflower 

Their  eyes  crossed.  "  By  George !  "  he  thought  — 
"  you're  in  it.     I  believe  to  God  you're  in  it." 

And  at  that  moment  he  felt  that  he  hated  the  wil- 
lowy, intangible  creature  who  had  just  treated  him  with 
contempt. 

But  as  they  coldly  touched  hands,  the  door  opened 
again,  and  Delia  appeared. 

"  Oh  I  didn't  mean  to  interrupt  — "  she  said,  re- 
treating. 

"  Come  in,  come  in !  "  said  Gertrude.  "  We  have 
finished  our  business  —  and  Mr.  Lathrop  I  am  sure  will 
excuse  me  —  I  must  get  some  letters  off  by  post  — " 

And  with  the  curtest  of  bows  she  disappeared. 

*'  I  have  brought  you  a  book,  Miss  Blanchflower," 
Lathrop  ners'ously  began,  diving  into  a  large  and  sag- 
ging pocket.  "  You  said  you  wanted  to  see  Madame 
de  Noailles'  second  volume." 

He  brought  out  "  Les  Eblouissements,"  and  laid  it 
on  the  table  beside  her.  Delia  thanked  him,  and  then, 
all  in  a  moment,  as  she  stood  beside  him,  a  thought 
struck  her.  She  turned  her  great  eyes  full  upon  him, 
and  he  saw  the  colour  rushing  into  her  cheeks. 

"  Mr.  Lathrop !  " 

«  Yes." 

"  Mr.  Lathrop  —  I  - — -I  dreadfully  want  some  prac- 
tical advice.     And  I  don't  know  whom  to  ask." 

The  soreness  of  his  wounded  self-love  vanished  in  a 
moment. 

"What  can  I  do  for  3'ou?"  he  asked  eagerly.  And 
at  once  his  own  personality  seemed  to  expand,  to  throw 
off  the  shadow  of  something  ignoble  it  had  worn  in 
Gertinide's  presence.  For  Delia,  looking  at  him,  was 
attracted  by  him.  The  shabby  clothes  made  no  im- 
pression  upon   her,   but   the   blue   eyes   did.     And   the 


Delia  Blanchflower  229 

childishness  which  still  surs'ived  in  her,  beneath  all  her 
intellectualisms,  came  impulsively  to  the  surface. 

"  Mr.  Lathrop,  do  jou  —  do  3'ou  know  anything 
about  jewelr}'?  " 

"  Jewelr}'  ?  Nothing !  —  except  that  I  have  dabbled 
in  pretty  things  of  that  sort  as  I  have  dabbled  in  most 
things.  I  once  did  some  designing  for  a  man  who  set 
up  —  in  Bond  Street  —  to  imitate  Lalique.  WHiy  do 
you  ask.P     I  suppose  you  have  heaps  of  jewels?" 

"  Too  many.     I  want  to  sell  some  jewels." 

"Sell.''  —  But — "  he  looked  at  her  in  astonishment. 

She  reddened  still  more  deeply ;  but  spoke  with  a 
frank  charm. 

"You  thought  I  vras  rich.''  Well,  of  course  I  ought 
to  be.  My  father  was  rich.  But  at  present  I  have 
nothing  of  m}-  own  —  nothing !  It  is  all  in  trust  — 
and  I  can't  get  at  it.  But  I  must  have  some  money ! 
Wait  here  a  moment !  " 

She  ran  out  of  the  room.  When  she  came  back  she 
was  carrj'ing  a  miscellaneous  armful  of  jewellers'  cases. 
She  threw  them  down  on  the  sofa. 

"  They  are  all  hideous  —  but  I  am  sure  they're 
worth  a  great  deal  of  money." 

And  she  opened  them  with  hasty  fingers  before  his 
astonished  ej-es.  In  his  restless  existence  he  had  ac- 
cumulated various  odd  veins  of  knowledge,  and  he  knew 
something  of  the  jewelry  trade  of  London.  He  had 
not  only  drawn  designs,  he  had  speculated  —  unluckily 
—  in  "  De  Beers."  For  a  short  time  Diamonds  had 
been  an  obsession  with  him,  then  Burmah  rubies.  He 
had  made  money  out  of  neither ;  it  was  not  in  his  horo- 
scope to  make  money  out  of  anything.  However  there 
was  the  result  —  a  certain  amount  of  desultory  infor- 
mation. 


230  Delia  Blanchfiower 

He  took  up  one  piece  after  another,  presently  draw- 
ing a  magnif^ang  glass  out  of  his  pocket  to  examine 
them  the  better. 

"  Well,  if  you  want  money  — "  he  said  at  last,  put- 
ting down  a  riviere  which  had  belonged  to  Delia's 
mother  — "  That  alone  Avill  give  you  some  thousands  !  " 

Delia's  eyes  danced  with  satisfaction  —  then  dark- 
ened. 

*'  That  was  Mamma's.  Papa  bought  it  at  Constan- 
tinople —  from  an  old  Turkish  Governor  —  who  had 
robbed  a  province  —  spent  the  loot  in  Paris  on  his 
wives  —  and  then  had  to  disgorge  half  his  fortune  —  to 
the  Sultan  —  who  got  wind  of  it.  Papa  bought  it  at  a 
great  bargain,  and  was  awfully  proud  of  it.  But  after 
Mamma  died,  he  sent  it  to  the  Bank,  and  never  thought 
of  it  again.  I  couldn't  wear  it,  of  course  —  I  was  too 
young." 

"  How  much  money  do  you  want?  " 

"  Oh,  a  few  thousands,"  said  Delia,  vaguely.  "  Five 
hundred  pounds,  first  of  all." 

"  And  who  will  sell  them  for  you .''  " 

She  frowned  in  perplexity. 

"I  — I  don't  know." 

"  You  don't  wish  to  ask  Mr.  Winnington  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not !  They  have  nothing  to  do  with  him. 
They  are  my  own  personal  property,"  she  added 
proudly. 

"Still  he  might  object  —  Ought  you  not  to  ask 
him.?" 

"  I  shall  not  tell  him !  "  She  straightened  her  shoul- 
ders. "  He  has  far  too  much  bother  on  my  account 
already." 

"  Of  course,  if  I  could  do  anything  for  you  —  I 
should  be  delighted.     But  I  don't  know  why  you  should 


Delia  Blanchflower  231 

trust  me.  You  don't  know  anything  about  me ! "  He 
laughed  uncomfortably. 

Delia  laughed  too  —  in  some  confusion.  It  seemed 
to  him  she  suddenly  realised  she  had  done  something 
unusual. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  suggest  it  — "  she  said, 
hesitating. 

"  Not  at  all.  It  would  amuse  me.  I  have  some 
threads  I  can  pick  up  still  —  in  Bond  Street.  Let  me 
advise  you  to  concentrate  on  that  riviere.  If  you 
really  feel  inclined  to  trust  me,  I  will  take  it  to  a  man 
I  know ;  he  will  show  it  to  — "  he  named  a  famous  firm. 
"  In  a  few  days  —  well,  give  me  a  week  —  and  I  under- 
take to  bring  you  proposals.  If  you  accept  them,  I 
will  collect  the  money  for  you  at  once  —  or  I  will  return 
you  the  necklace,  if  you  don't." 

Delia  clasped  her  hands. 

"  A  week !  You  think  it  might  all  be  finished  in  a 
week  ?  " 

*'  Certainly  —  thereabouts.  These  things  — "  he 
touched  the  diamonds  — "  are  practically  money." 

Delia  sat  ruminating,  with  a  bright  excited  face. 
Then  a  serious  expression  returned.     She  looked  up. 

"  Mr.  Lathrop,  this  ought  to  be  a  matter  of  business 
between  us  —  if  you  do  me  so  great  a  service?  " 

"You  mean  I  ought  to  take  a  commission?  "  he  said, 
calmly.     "  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"  It  is  more  than  I  ought  to  accept ! "  she  cried. 
"  Let  your  kindness  —  include  what  I  wish." 

He  shook  his  fair  hair  impatiently. 

"  Why  should  you  take  away  all  my  pleasure  in  the 
little  adventure  ?  " 

She  looked  embarrassed.     He  went  on  — 

"  Besides  we  are  comrades  —  we  have  stood  together 


232  Delia  Blanchflower 

in  the  fight.  I  expect  this  is  for  the  Cause!  If  so  I 
ought  to  be  angry  that  jou  even  suggested  it ! " 

"  Don't  be  angry !  "  she  said  gravely.  "  I  meant 
nothing  unkind.  Well,  I  thank  you  very  much  —  and 
there  are  the  diamonds." 

She  gave  him  the  case,  with  a  quiet  deliberate  move- 
ment, as  if  to  emphasize  her  trust  in  him.  The  sim- 
plicity with  Vt'hich  it  was  done  pricked  him  uncomfort- 
ably. "  I'm  no  thief !  — "  he  thought  angrily.  "  She's 
safe  enough  with  me.  All  the  same,  if  she  knew  —  she 
wouldn't  speak  to  me  —  she  wouldn't  admit  me  Into  her 
house.     She  doesn't  know  —  and  I  am  a  cad !  " 

"  You  can't  the  least  understand  what  it  means  to 
be  allowed  to  do  you  a  service !  "  he  said,  with  emo- 
tion. 

But  the  tone  evidently  displeased  her.  She  once 
more  formally  thanked  him ;  then  sprang  up  and  began 
to  put  the  cases  on  the  sofa  together.  As  she  did  so, 
steps  on  the  gravel  outside  were  heard  through  the  low 
casement  window.  Delia  turned  with  a  start,  and  saw 
Mark  Winnington  approaching  the  front  door. 

"  Don't  say  anything  please! "  she  said  urgently. 
*'  This  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  guardian." 

And  opening  the  door  of  a  lacquer  cabinet,  she 
hurriedly  packed  the  jewelry  inside  with  all  the  speed 
she  could.  Her  flushed  cheek  shewed  her  humiliated  by 
the  action. 

Winnington  stood  in  the  doorway,  silent  and  wait- 
ing. After  a  hasty  greeting  to  the  new-comer,  Delia 
was  nervously  bidding  Lathrop  good-bye. 

"  In  a  week ! "  he  said,  under  his  breath,  as  she  gave 
him  her  hand. 

"  A  week !  "  she  repeated,  evidently  impatient  for  him 


Delia  Blanchtiower  233 

to  be  gone.  He  exchanged  a  curt  bow  with  Winning- 
ton,  and  the  door  closed  on  him. 

There  was  a  short  silence.  Winnington  remained 
standing,  hat  in  hand.  He  was  in  riding  dress  —  a 
commanding  figure,  his  lean  face  reddened,  and  the 
waves  of  his  grizzled  hair  slightly  loosened,  by  a  buf- 
feting wind.  Delia,  stealing  a  glance  at  him,  divined 
a  coming  remonstrance,  and  awaited  it  with  a  strange 
mixture  of  fear  and  pleasure.  They  had  not  met  for 
ten  days ;  and  she  stammered  out  some  New  Year's 
wishes.  She  hoped  that  he  and  Mrs.  Matheson  had 
enjoyed  their  visit. 

But  without  any  reply  to  her  politeness,  he  said 
abruptly  — 

"  Were  you  arranging  some  business  with  Mr. 
Lathrop  ?  " 

She  supposed  he  was  thinking  of  the  militant  Cam- 
paign. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "  Yes,  I  was  arranging 
some  business." 

Winnington's  eyes  examined  her. 

"  Miss  Delia,  what  do  you  know  about  that  man  ? 
—  except  that  story  —  which  I  understand  Miss  Mar- 
vcll  told  you." 

"  Nothing  —  nothing  at  all !  Except  —  except  that 
he  speaks  at  our  meetings,  and  generally  gets  us  into 
hot  water.  He  has  a  lot  of  interesting  books  —  and 
drawings  —  in  his  cottage ;  and  he  has  lent  me 
Madame  de  Noailles'  poems.  Won't  you  sit  down.?  I 
hope  you  and  Mrs.  Matheson  have  had  a  good  time? 
We  have  been  to  church  —  at  least  I  have  —  and  given 
away  lots  of  coals  and  plum-puddings  —  at  least  I 
have.  Gertrude  thought  me  a  fool.  We  have  had  the 
choir  up  to  sing  carols  in  the  servants'  hall,  and  given 


234  Delia  Blanchflower 

them  a  sovereign  —  at  least  I  did.     And  I  don't  want 
any.  more  Christmas  —  for  a  long,  long,  time  !  " 

And  with  that,  she  dropped  into  a  chair  opposite 
Winnington,  who  sat  now  twirling  his  hat  and  studying 
the  ground. 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  he  said  drily  when  she  paused. 
"  I  felt  when  I  was   away  that  I  had  better  be  here. 
And  I  feel  it  now  doubly." 
"Because?" 

"  Because  —  if  my  absence  has  led  to  your  develop- 
ing any  further  acquaintance  with  the  gentleman  who 
has  just  left  the  room,  when  I  might  have  prevented 
it,  I  regret  it  deeply." 

Delia's  cheeks  had  gone  crimson  again. 
"  You  knew  perfectly  well  Mr.  Winnington,  that  we 
had  made  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Lathrop!     We  never 
concealed  it !  " 

"  I  knew,  of  course,  that  you  were  both  members  of 
the  League,  and  that  you  had  spoken  at  meetings  to- 
gether. I  regretted  it  —  exceedingly  —  and  I  asked 
you  —  in  vain  —  to  put  an  end  to  it.  But  when  I 
find  him  paying  a  morning  call  here  —  and  lending  you 
books  —  that  is  a  very  different  matter !  " 
Delia  broke  out  — 

"  You  really  are  too  Early-Victorian,  Mr.  Winning- 
ton  !  —  and  I  can't  help  being  rude.  Do  you  suppose 
you  can  ever  turn  me  into  a  bread-and-butter  miss? 
I  have  looked  after  myself  for  years  —  you  don't  under- 
stand!" She  faced  him  indignantly. 
Winnington  laughed. 

"  All  right  —  so  long  as  the  Early  Victorians  may 
have  their  say.  And  my  say  about  Mr.  Lathrop  is  — 
again  that  he  is  not  a  fit  companion  for  you,  or  any 
young  girl, —  that  he  is  a  man  of  blemished  character 


Delia  Blanchfiower  235 

—  both  in  morals  and  business.     Ask  anybody  in  this 
neighbourhood !  " 

He  had  spoken  with  firm  emphasis,  his  eyes 
sparkhng. 

"  Everybody  in  the  neighbourhood  believes  anything 
bad,  about  him  —  and  us  !  "  cried  Delia. 

"  Don't,  for  Heaven's  sake,  couple  yourself,  and  the 
man  —  together ! "  said  Winnington,  flushing  with 
anger.  "  I  knew  nothing  about  him,  when  you  first 
arrived  here.  Mr.  Lathrop  didn't  matter  twopence  to 
me  before.     Now  he  does  matter." 

"Why?"     Delia's  eyes  were  held  to  his,  fascinated. 

"  Simply  because  I  care  —  I  care  a  great  deal  — 
what  happens  to  you,"  he  said  quietly,  after  a  pause. 
"  Naturally,  I  must  care." 

Delia  looked  away,  and  began  twisting  her  black 
sash  into  knots. 

"  Bankruptcy  —  is  not  exactly  a  crime." 

"  Oh,  so  you  knew  that  farther  fact  about  him  ?  But 
of  course  —  it  is  the  rest  that  matters.  Since  we 
spoke  of  this  before,  I  have  seen  the  judge  who  tried 
the  case  in  which  this  man  figured.  I  hate  speaking  of 
it  in  your  presence,  but  you  force  me.  He  told  me  it 
was  one  of  the  worst  he  had  ever  known  —  a  case  for 
which  there  was  no  defence  or  excuse  whatever." 

"Why  must  I  believe  it.?"  cried  Delia  impetuously. 
"It's  a  man's  judgment!  The  woman  may  have  been 
—  Gertrude  says  she  was  —  horribly  unhappy  and  ill- 
treated.  Yet  nothing  could  be  proved  —  enough  to 
free  her.  Wait  till  we  have  women  judges  —  and 
women  lawyers  —  then  you'll  see  !  " 

He  laughed  indignantly  —  though  not  at  all  inclined 
to  laugh.  And  what  seemed  to  him  her  stubborn  per- 
versity drove  him  to  despair. 


236  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  In  this  case,  if  there  had  been  a  woman  judge,  I 
am  inclined  to  think  it  would  have  been  a  good  deal 
worse  for  the  people  concerned.  At  least  I  hope  so. 
Don't  try  to  make  me  believe,  Miss  Delia,  that  women 
are  going  to  forgive  treachery  and  wickedness  more 
easily  than  men  !  " 

"  Oh,  '  treachery ! ' — "  she  murmured,  protesting. 
His  look  both  intimidated  and  drew  her.  Winnington 
came  nearer  to  her,  and  suddenly  he  laid  his  hand  on 
both  of  hers.  Looking  up  she  was  conscious  of  a  look 
that  was  half  raillery,  half  tenderness. 

"  My  dear  child !  —  I  must  call  you  that  —  though 
you  are  so  clever  —  and  so  —  so  determined  to  have 
your  own  way.  Look  here !  I'm  going  to  plead  my 
rights.  I've  done  a  good  deal  for  you  the  last  three 
months  — •  perhaps  you  hardly  know  all  that  has  been 
done.  I've  been  your  watch-dog  —  put  it  at  that. 
Well,  now  give  the  watch-dog,  give  the  Early-Victorian, 
his  bone !  Promise  me  that  3^ou  will  have  no  more 
dealings  M'ith  Mr.  Lathrop.  Send  him  back  his  books 
—  and  say  '  Not  at  Home ! '  " 

She  was  really  distressed. 

"  I  can't,  Mr.  Winnington  !  —  I'm  so  sorry !  —  but  I 
can't." 

"Why  can't  you?"     He  still  held  her. 

A  score  of  thoughts  flew  hitlier  and  thither  in  her 
brain.  She  had  asked  a  great  favour  of  Lathrop  —  she 
had  actually  put  the  jewels  into  his  hands!  How  could 
she  recall  her  action.?  And  when  he  had  done  her 
such  a  service,  if  he  succeeded  in  doing  it  —  how  was 
she  to  turn  round  on  him,  and  cut  him  the  very  next 
moment  ? 

Nor  could  she  make  up  her  mind  to  confess  to  Win- 
nington   what    she    had    done.      She    was    bent    on    her 


Delia  Blanchflower  237 

scheme.  If  she  disclosed  it  now  everj'thing  might  be 
upset. 

"  I  really  can't!  "  she  repeated,  gravel}^,  releasing 
her  hands. 

Winnington  rose,  and  began  to  pace  the  drawing 
room.  Delia  watched  him  —  quivering  —  an  exquisite 
vision  herself,  in  the  half  lights  of  the  room. 

When  he  paused  at  last  to  speak,  she  saw  a  new  ex- 
pression in  his  eyes. 

"  I  shall  have  to  think  this  over.  Miss  Blanchflower 

—  perhaps  to  reconsider  my  whole  position." 
She  was  startled,  but  she  kept  her  composure. 

"  You  mean  ■ —  you  may  have  —  after  all  —  to  give 
me  up  ?  " 

He  forced  a  very  chilly  smile. 

"  You  remember  —  you  asked  me  to  give  you  up. 
Now  if  it  wei'e  only  one  subject  —  however  important 

—  on  which  we  disagreed,  I  might  still  do  my  best, 
though  the  responsibility  of  all  you  make  me  connive 
at  is  certainly  heav}^  But  if  you  are  entirely  to  set 
at  defiance  not  only  my  advice  and  wishes  as  to  this 
illegal  society  to  which  you  belong,  and  as  to  the  vio- 
lent action  into  which  I  understand  you  may  be  led 
when  you  go  to  town,  but  also  in  such  a  matter  as  we 
have  just  been  discussing  —  then  indeed,  I  see  no  place 
for  me.  I  must  think  it  over.  A  guardian  appointed 
by  the  Court  might  be  more  effective  —  might  influence 
you  more." 

"  I  told  you  I  was  a  handful,"  said  Delia,  trying  to 
laugh.      But  her  voice  sounded  hollow  in  her  own  ears. 

He  offered  no  reply  —  merely  repeating  "  I  must 
think  it  over!" — and  resolutely  changing  the  subject, 
he  made  a  little  perfunctory  conversation  on  a  few  mat- 
ters of  business  —  and  was  gone. 


238 


Delia  Blanchflower 


After  his  departure,  Delia  sat  motionless  for  half 
an  hour  at  least,  staring  at  the  fire.  Then  suddenly 
she  sprang  up,  went  to  the  writing-table,  and  sat  down 
to  write  — 

"  Dear  Mr.  Mark  —  Don't  give  me  up !  You  don't 
know.  Trust  me  a  little!  I  am  not  such  a  fiend  as  you 
think.  I  am  grateful  —  I  am  indeed.  I  wish  to  good- 
ness I  could  show  it.  Perhaps  I  shall  some  day.  I  hadn't 
time  to  tell  you  about  poor  Weston  —  who's  to  have  an 
operation  —  and  that  I'm  not  going  to  town  with  Gertrude 
—  not  for  some  weeks  at  any  rate.  I  shall  be  alone  here, 
looking  after  Weston.  So  I  can't  disgrace  or  worry  you 
for  a  good  while  any  way.  And  you  needn't  fret  about 
Mr.  Lathrop  —  you  needn't  really!  I  can't  explain  —  not 
just  yet  —  but  it's  all  right.  Mayn't  I  come  and  help  with 
some  of  your  cripple  children?  or  the  school?  or  something? 
If  Susy  Amberly  can  do  it,  I  suppose  I  can  —  I'd  like  to. 
May  I  sign  myself  —  though  I  am  a  handful  — 
"  Yours  affectionately, 

"  Delia  Bla_nchflower." 

She  sat  staring  at  the  paper,  trembling  under  a 
stress  of  feeling  she  could  not  understand  —  the  large 
tears  in  her  eyes. 


Chapter  XIII 

*  *  irjACK  the  papers  as  quickly  as  you  can  —  I  am 

A  going  to  town  this  afternoon.  Whatever  can't 
be  packed  before  then,  you  can  bring  up  to  me  to- 
morrow." 

A  tired  girl  lifted  her  head  from  the  packing-case 
before  which  she  was  kneeling. 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Miss  Marvell  —  But  I'm  afraid  it 
will  be  impossible  to  finish  to-day."  And  she  looked 
wearily  round  the  room  laden  with  papers  —  letters, 
pamphlets,  press-cuttings  —  on  every  available  table 
and  shelf. 

Gertrude  gave  a  rather  curt  assent.  Her  reason  told 
her  the  thing  was  impossible;  but  her  will  chafed 
against  the  delay,  which  her  secretary  threatened,  of 
even  a  few  hours  in  the  resumption  of  her  work  in  Lon- 
don, and  the  re-housing  of  all  its  tools  and  materials. 
She  was  a  hard  mistress ;  though  no  harder  on  her 
subordinates  than  she  was  on  herself. 

She  began  to  turn  her  own  hand  to  the  packing, 
and  missing  a  book  she  had  left  in  the  drawing-room 
the  night  before,  she  went  to  fetch  it.  It  was  again 
a  morning  of  frosty  sunshine,  and  the  garden  outside 
lay  in  dazzling  light.  The  drawing-room  windows  were 
open,  and  through  one  of  them  Gertrude  perceived 
Delia  moving  about  outside  on  the  whitened  grass.  She 
was  looking  for  the  earliest  snowdrops  which  were  just 
beginning  to  bulge  from  the  green  stems,  pushing  up 
through   the   dead  leaves   under  the  beech   trees.      She 

239 


240  Delia  Blanchflower 

wore  a  blue  soft  shawl  round  her  head  and  shoulders, 
and  she  was  singing  to  herself.  As  she  raised  herself 
from  the  ground,  and  paused  a  moment  looking  towards 
the  house,  but  evidently  quite  unconscious  of  any  spec- 
tators, Gertrude  could  not  take  her  eyes  from  the  vision 
she  made.  If  radiant  beaut}',  if  grace,  and  flawless 
youth  can  "  lift  a  mortal  to  the  skies,"  Delia  stood  like 
a  young  goddess  under  the  winter  sun.  But  there  was 
much  more  than  beauty  in  her  face.  There  was  a  flut- 
tering and  dreamy  joy  which  belongs  only  to  the  chil- 
dren of  earth.  The  low  singing  came  unconsciously 
from  her  lips,  as  though  it  were  the  natural  expression 
of  the  heart  within.  Gertrude  caught  the  old  lilting 
tune : — 

"  For  oh,  Greensleaves  was  all  my  joy  — 
For  oh,  Greensleaves  was  my  heart's  delight  — 
And  who  but  my  lady  Greensleaves  — " 

The  woman  observing  her  did  so  with  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  softness  and  repulsion.  If  Gertrude  Marvell 
loved  anybody,  she  loved  Delia  —  the  captive  of  her  own 
bow  and  spear,  and  until  now  the  most  loyal,  the  most 
single-minded  of  disciples.  But  as  she  saw  Delia  walk 
away  to  a  further  reach  of  the  garden,  the  mind  of  the 
elder  woman  bitterly  accused  the  younger.  Delia's  re- 
fusal to  join  the  militant  forces  in  London,  at  this  most 
critical  and  desperate  time,  on  what  seemed  to  Ger- 
trude the  tnimpery  excuse  of  Weston's  illness,  had 
made  an  indelible  impression  on  a  fanatical  temper.  If 
she  had  cared  —  if  she  had  really  cared  —  she  could 
not  have  done  any  such  thing.  "  What  have  I  been 
wasting  my  time  here  for?"  she  asked  herself;  and  re- 
viewing the  motives  which  had  induced  her  to  accept 
Delia's   proposal   that    they    should   live   together,    she 


Delia  Blanchflower  241 

accused  herself  sharply  of  a  contemptible  lack  of  judg- 
ment and  foresight. 

For  no  mere  affection  for  Delia  Blanchflower  would 
have  influenced  her,  at  the  time  when  Delia,  writing 
to  tell  her  of  the  approaching  death  of  Sir  Robert,  im- 
plored her  to  come  and  share  her  life.  "  You  know  I 
shall  have  money,  dearest  Gertrude," —  wrote  Delia  — 
"  Come  and  help  me  to  spend  it  —  for  the  Cause." 
And  for  the  sake  of  the  Cause, —  which  was  then  sorely 
in  want  of  money  —  and  only  for  its  sake,  Gertrude 
had  consented.  She  was  at  that  time  rapidly  becoming 
one  of  the  leading  spirits  in  the  London  office  of  the 
"  Daughters,"  so  that  to  bury  herself,  even  for  a  time, 
in  a  country  village,  some  eighty  miles  from  London, 
was  a  sacrifice.  But  to  secure  what  seemed  likely  to 
be  some  thousands  a  year  from  a  willing  giver,  such 
a  temporary  and  modified  exile  had  appeared  to  her 
worth  while ;  and  she  had  at  once  planned  a  campaign 
of  "  militant  "  meetings  in  the  towns  along  the  South 
Coast,  by  way  of  keeping  in  touch  with  "  active  work." 

But,  in  the  first  place,  the  extraordinary  tenns  of 
Sir  Robert's  will  had  proved  far  more  baffling  than  she 
and  Delia  had  ever  been  willing  to  believe.  And,  in 
the  next  place,  the  personality  of  Mark  Winnington 
had  almost  immediately  presented  itself  to  Gertrude  as 
something  she  had  never  reckoned  with.  A  blustering 
and  tyrannical  guardian  would  have  been  comparatively 
easy  to  fight.  Winnington  was  formidable,  not  be- 
cause he  was  hostile,  resolutely  hostile,  to  their  whole 
propaganda  of  violence;  that  might  onl^^  have  spurred 
a  strong-willed  girl  to  more  passionate  extremes.  He 
was  dangerous, —  in  spite  of  his  forty  years  —  because 
he  was  delightful ;  because,  in  his  leisurely,  old-fash- 
ioned way,  he  was  so  loveable,  so  handsome,  so  inevi- 


242  Delia  Blanchflower 

tably  attractive.  Gertrude,  looking  back,  realised  that 
she  had  soon  perceived  —  vaguely  at  least  —  what 
might  happen,  what  had  now  —  as  she  dismally  guessed 
—  actually  happened. 

The  young,  impressionable  creature,  brought  into 
close  contact  with  this  charming  fellow  —  this  agi-ee- 
able  reactionary  —  had  fallen  in  love !  That  was  all. 
But  it  was  moi'e  than  enough.  Delia  might  be  still  un- 
conscious of  it  herself.  But  this  new  shrinking  from 
the  most  characteristic  feature  of  the  violent  policy  — 
this  new  softness  and  fluidity  in  a  personality  that 
when  they  first  reached  Maumsey  had  begun  already 
to  stiffen  in  the  fierce  mould  of  militancy  —  to  what 
could  any  obsei'A^er  with  eyes  in  their  head  attribute 
them  but  the  influence  of  Mark  Winnington  —  the 
daily  unseen  presence  of  other  judgments  and  other 
ideals  embodied  in  a  man  to  whom  the  girl's  feelings 
had  capitulated? 

"  If  I  could  have  kept  her  to  myself  for  another 
year,  he  could  have  done  nothing."  But  he  has  inter- 
vened before  her  opinions  were  anything  more  than  the 
echoes  of  mine ;  —  and  for  the  future  I  shall  have  less 
and  less  chance  against  him.  What  shall  we  ever  get 
cut  of  her  as  a  married  woman?  What  would  Mark 
Winnington  —  to  whom  she  will  give  herself,  body  and 
soul, —  allow  us  to  get  out  of  her?  Better  break  with 
her  now,  and  disentangle  my  own  life !  " 

With  such  thoughts,  a  pale  and  brooding  woman 
pursued  the  now  distant  figure  of  Delia.  At  the  same 
time  Gertrude  Marvell  had  no  intention  whatever  of 
provoking  a  premature  breach  which  might  deprive 
either  the  Cause  or  herself  of  any  help  they  might  still 
obtain  from  Delia  in  the  desperate  fight  immediately 
ahead.      She,    personally,    would    have    infinitely    pre- 


Delia  Blanchflower  243 

ferred  freedom  and  a  garret  to  Delia's  flat,  and  any 
kind  of  dependence  on  Delia's  money.  "  I  was  not  born 
to  be  a  parasite !  "  she  angrily  thought.  But  she  had 
no  right  to  prefer  them.  All  that  could  be  extracted 
from  Delia  should  be  extracted.  She  was  now  no  more 
to  Gertrude  tlian  a  pawn  In  the  game.  Let  her  be 
used  —  if  she  could  not  be  trusted ! 

But  if  this  had  fallen  differently,  If  she  had  remained 
the  true  sister-in-arms,  given  wholly  to  the  jo}'  of  the 
fight,  Gertrude's  stern  soul  would  have  clasped  her  to 
itself,  just  as  passionately  as  it  now  dismissed  her. 

"  No  matter !  "  The  hard  brown  eyes  looked  steadily 
into  the  future.  "  That's  done  with.  I  am  alone  — 
I  shall  be  alone.  What  does  it  signify  ?  —  a  little 
sooner  or  later?  " 

The  vagueness  of  the  words  matched  the  vagueness 
of  certain  haunting  premonitions  In  the  background  of 
the  mind.  Her  own  future  always  shaped  itself  in 
tragic  terms.  It  was  impossible  —  she  knew  it  —  that 
it  should  bring  her  to  any  kind  of  happiness.  It  was 
no  less  Impossible  that  she  should  pause  and  submit. 
That  active  defiance  of  the  existing  order,  on  which 
she  had  entered,  possessed  her,  gripped  her,  irrevocably. 
She  was  like  the  launched  stone  which  describes  its  ap- 
pointed curve  —  till  It  drops. 

As  for  any  Interference  from  the  side  of  her  own 
personal  tics  and  affections, —  she  had  none. 

In  her  pocket  she  carried  a  letter  she  had  received 
that  morning,  from  her  mother.  It  was  plaintive,  as 
usual. 

"  Winnie's  second  child  arrived  last  week.  It  was  an 
awful  confinement.  The  first  doctor  had  to  get  another, 
and  they  only  just  pulled  her  througli.  The  child's  a  mis- 
ery.    It  would  be  much  better  if  it  had  died.     I  can't  think 


244  Delia  Blanchflower 

what  shell  do.  Her  husband's  a  wretched  creature  —  just 
manages  to  keep  in  work  —  but  he  neglects  her  shamefully 

—  and  if  there  ever  is  anything  to  spend,  he  spends  it  — 
on  his  own  amusement.  She  cried  the  other  day,  when  we 
were  talking  of  you.  She  thinks  you're  living  with  a  rich 
lady,  and  have  everything  you  want  —  and  she  and  her 
children  are  often  half-starved.  *  She  might  forgive  me 
now,  I  do  think  — '  she'll  say  sometimes  — '  And  as  for 
Henry,  if  I  did  take  him  away  from  her,  she  may  thank 
her  stars  she  didn't  marry  him.  She'd  have  killed  him  by 
now.  She  never  could  stand  men  like  Henry.  Only,  when 
he  was  a  young  fellow,  he  took  her  in  —  her  first,  and  then 
me.     It  was  a  bad  job  we  ever  saw  him.' 

"Why  are  you  so  set  against  us,  Gertrude?  —  your  own 
flesh  and  blood.  I'm  sure  if  I  ever  was  unkind  to  you  I'm 
sorry  for  it.  You  used  to  say  I  favoured  Albert  at  your 
expense  —  Well,  he's  as  good  as  dead  to  me  now,  and  I've 
got  no  good  out  of  all  the  spoiling  I  gave  him.  I  sit  at 
home  by  myself,  and  I'm  a  pretty  miserable  woman.  I 
read  everything  I  can  in  the  papers  about  what  you're  doing 

—  you,  who  were  my  only  child,  seven  years  before  Albert 
came.  It  doesn't  matter  to  you  what  I  think  —  at  least, 
it  oughtn't.  I'm  an  old  woman,  and  whatever  I  thought 
I'd  never  quarrel  with  you.  But  it  would  matter  to  me  a 
good  deal,  if  you'd  sometimes  come  in,  and  sit  by  the  fire 
a  bit,  and  chat.  It's  three  years  since  I've  even  seen  you. 
Winnie  says  you've  forgotten  us  —  you  only  care  about  the 
vote.  But  I  don't  believe  it.  Other  people  may  think  the 
vote  can  make  up  for  everything  —  but  not  you.  You're 
too  clever.     Hoping  to  see  you, 

"  Your  lonely  old  mother, 

"  Janet  Marvell." 

To  that  letter,  Gertrude  had  already  written  her 
reply.  Sometime  —  in  the  summer,  perhaps,  she  had 
said  to  her  mother.  And  she  had  added  the  mental 
proviso  — "  if  I  am  alive."     For  the  matters  in  which 


Delia  Blanchilower  245 

she  was  engaged  were  no  child's  play,  and  the  excite- 
ments of  prison  and  hunger-striking  might  tell  even  on 
the  strongest  physique. 

No  —  her  family  were  nothing  to  her.  Her  mother's 
appeal,  though  it  should  not  be  altogether  ignored,  was 
an  insincere  one.  She  had  always  stood  by  the  men  of 
the  family;  and  for  the  men  of  the  family,  Gertrude, 
its  eldest  daughter,  felt  nothing  but  loathing  and  con- 
tempt. Her  father,  a  local  government  official  in  a 
western  town,  a  small-minded  domestic  tyrant,  ruined 
by  long  years  of  whisky-nipping  between  meals ;  her 
only  brother,  profligate  and  spendthrift,  of  whose 
present  modes  of  life  the  less  said  the  better ;  her 
brother-in-law,  Henry  Lewison,  the  man  whom,  in  her 
callow,  ignorant  youth,  she  was  once  to  have  married, 
before  her  younger  sister  supplanted  her  —  a  canting 
hypocrite,  who  would  spend  his  day  in  devising  petty 
torments  for  his  wife,  and  begin  and  end  it  with  family 
prayers :  —  these  types,  in  a  brooding  and  self-centred 
mind,  had  gradually  come  to  stand  for  the  whole  male 
race. 

Nor  had  her  lonely  struggle  for  a  livelihood,  after 
she  had  fled  from  home,  done  anything  to  loosen  the 
hold  of  these  images  upon  her.  She  looked  back  upon 
a  dismal  type-writing  office,  run  by  a  grasping  em- 
ployer ;  a  struggle  for  health,  warring  with  the  struggle 
for  bread ;  sick  headache,  sleeplessness,  anaemia,  yet 
always  within,  the  same  iron  will  driving  on  the  weary 
body;  and  always  the  same  grim  perception  on  the  dark 
horizon  of  an  outer  gulf  into  which  some  women  fell, 
with  no  hope  of  resurrection.  She  burnt  again  with 
the  old  bitter  sense  of  injustice,  on  the  economic  side; 
remembering  fiercely'  her  own  stinted  earnings,  and  the 
higher  wages  and  larger  opportunities  of  men,  whom, 


246  Delia  Blanchflower 

intellectually,  she  despised.  Remembering  too  the 
development  of  that  new  and  ugly  temper  in  men  — 
men  hard-pressed  themselves  —  who  must  now  see  in 
women  no  longer  playthings  or  sweethearts,  but  rivals 
and  supplanters. 

So  that  gradually,  year  by  year,  there  had 
strengthened  in  her  that  strange,  modern  thing,  a 
woman's  hatred  of  men  —  the  normal  instincts  of  sex 
distorted  and  embittered.  And  when  suddenly,  owing 
to  the  slow  working  of  many  causes,  economic  and 
moral,  a  section  of  the  Woman  Suffrage  movement  had 
broken  into  flame  and  violence,  she  had  flung  her  very 
soul  to  it  as  fuel,  with  the  passion  of  one  to  whom  life 
at  last  "  gives  room."  In  that  outbreak  were  gath- 
ered up  for  her  all  the  rancours,  and  all  the  ideals  of 
life,  all  its  hopes  and  all  its  despairs.     Not  much  hope ! 

—  and  few  ideals.  Her  passion  for  the  Cause  had  been 
a  grim  force,  hardly  mixed  with  illusion ;  but  it  had 
held  and  shaped  her. 

Meanwhile  among  women  she  has  found  a  few  kin- 
dred souls.  One  of  them,  a  fellow-student,  came  into 
money,  died,  and  left  Gertrude  Marvell  a  thousand 
pounds.  On  that  sum  she  had  educated  herself,  had 
taken  her  degree  at  a  West  Country  University,  had 
moved  to  London  and  begun  work  as  a  teacher  and 
journalist.  Then  again,  a  break  down  in  health,  fol- 
lowed by  a  casual  acquaintance  with  Lady  Tonbridge 

—  Sir   Robert's   offer  —  its   acceptance  —  Delia ! 
How  much  had  opened  to  her  with  Delia!     Pleasure, 

for  the  first  time ;  the  sheer  pleasure  of  travel,  society, 
tropical  beauty ;  the  strangeness  also  of  finding  herself 
adored,  of  feeling  that  young  loveliness,  that  young  in- 
telligence, all  yielding  softness  in  her  own  strong 
hands  — 

Well,     that     was     done ;  —  practically     done.     She 


Delia  Blanchflower  247 

cheated  herself  with  no  vain  hopes.  The  process  which 
had  begun  in  Delia  would  go  forward.  One  more  de- 
feat to  admit  and  forget.  One  more  disaster  to  turn 
one's  back  upon. 

And  no  disabling  lamentations !  Her  eyes  cleared, 
her  mouth  stiffened.  She  went  quietly  back  to  her 
packing. 

"Gertrude!  What  are  you  doing?"  The  voice 
was  Delia's.  She  stood  on  the  threshold  of  Gertrude's 
den,  looking  with  amazement,  at  the  littered  room  and 
the  packing-cases. 

"  I  find  I  must  go  up  at  once  —  They  want  help  at 
the  office."  Gertrude,  who  was  writing  a  letter,  deliv- 
ered the  information  over  her  shoulder. 

"  But  the  flat  won't  be  ready !  " 

"  Never  mind,     I  can  go  to  a  hotel  for  a  few  days." 

A  cloud  dropped  over  the  radiance  of  Delia's  face, 
fresh  from  the  sun  and  frost  outside. 

"  I  can't  bear  your  going  alone !  " 

*'  Oh,  you'll  come  later,"  said  Gertrude  indifferently. 

"  Did  you  —  did  you  —  have  such  urgent  letters  this 
morning?  " 

"  Well  —  you  know  things  are  urgent  I  JBut  then, 
you  see,  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  stay  with 
Weston ! " 

A  slight  mocking  look  accompanied  the  words. 

"  Yes  —  I  must  stay  with  Weston,"  said  Delia, 
slowly,  and  then  perceiving  that  the  typist  showed  no 
signs  of  leaving  them  together,  and  that  confidential 
talk  was  therefore  impossible,  she  reluctantly  went 
away. 

Weston  that  morning  was  in  much  pain,  and  Delia 
sat  beside  her,  learning  by  some  new  and  developing 
instinct    how    to    soothe    her.     The    huntress    of    the 


248  Delia  Blanchflower 

Tyrolese  woods  had  few  caressing  ways,  and  pain  had 
always  been  horrible  to  her ;  a  thing  to  be  shunned,  even 
by  the  spectator,  lest  it  should  weaken  the  wild  natural 
energies.  But  Weston  was  very  dear  to  her,  and  the 
maid's  suffering  stirred  deep  slumbering  powers  in  the 
girl's  nature.  She  watched  the  trained  Nurse  at  her 
work,  and  copied  her  anxiously.  And  all  the  time  she 
was  thinking,  thinking,  now  of  Gertrude,  now  of  her 
letter  to  Winnlngton.  Gertrude  was  vexed  with  her, 
thought  her  a  poor  creature  —  that  was  plain.  "  But 
in  a  fortnight,  I'll  go  to  her, —  and  they'll  see !  — " 
thought  the  girl's  wrestling  mind.  "  And  before  that, 
I  shall  send  her  money.  I  can't  help  what  she  thinks. 
I'm  not  false !  —  I'm  not  giving  In !  But  I  must  have 
this  fortnight, —  just  this  fortnight ;  —  for  Weston's 
sake,  and " 

For  her  proud  sincerity  would  not  allow  her  to  pre- 
tend to  herself.  What  had  happened  to  her?  She 
felt  the  strangest  lightness  —  as  though  some  long 
restraint  had  broken  down;  a  wonderful  intermittent 
happiness,  sweeping  on  her  without  reason,  and  setting 
the  breath  fluttering.  It  made  her  think  of  what  an 
old  Welsh  nurse  of  her  childhood  had  once  told  her  of 
"  conversion,"  In  a  Welsh  revival,  and  Its  marvellous 
effects ;  how  men  and  women  walked  on  air,  and  the 
iron  bands  of  life  and  custom  dropped  away. 

Then  she  rose  impatiently,  despising  herself,  and 
went  downstairs  again  to  try  and  help  Gertrude.  But 
the  packing  was  done,  the  pony-cart  was  ordered,  and 
in  an  hour  more,  Gertrude  was  gone.  Delia  was  left 
standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  front  door,  listening 
to  the  sound  of  the  receding  wheels.  They  had  parted 
In  perfect  friendliness,  Gertrude  with  civil  wishes  for 
Weston's  complete  recovery,  Delia  with  eager  promises 


Delia  Blanchflower  249 

• — "  I  shall  soon  come  —  very  soon  !  " — promises  of 
which,  as  she  now  remembered,  Gertrude  had  taken  but 
little  notice. 

But  as  she  went  back  into  the  house,  the  girl  had  a 
queer  feeling  of  catastrophe,  of  radical  change.  She 
passed  the  old  gun-room,  and  looked  in.  All  its  brown 
paper  bundles,  its  stacks  of  leaflets,  its  books  of  refer- 
ence were  gone;  only  a  litter  of  torn  papers  remained 
here  and  there,  to  shew  what  its  uses  had  been.  And 
suddenly,  a  swell  of  something  like  exultation,  a  wild 
sense  of  deliverance,  rushed  upon  her,  driving  out  de- 
pression. She  went  back  to  the  drawing-room,  with 
little  dancing  steps,  singing  under  her  breath.  The 
flowers  wanted  freshening.  She  went  out  to  the  green- 
house, and  brought  in  some  early  hyacinths  and  violets 
till  the  room  was  fragrant.  Some  of  them  she  took  up 
to  Weston,  chatting  to  the  patient  and  her  nurse  as  she 
arranged  them,  with  such  sweetness,  such  smiles,  such 
an  abandonment  of  kindness,  that  both  looked  after  her 
amazed,  when,  again,  she  vanished.  What  had  become 
of  the  imperious  absent-minded  young  woman  of  or- 
dinary days? 

Delia  lunched  alone.  And  after  lunch  she  grew  rest- 
less. 

He  must  have  received  her  letter  at  breakfast-time. 
Probably  he  had  some  tiresome  meetings  in  the  morn- 
ing, but  soon  —  soon  — 

She  tried  to  settle  to  some  reading.  How  long  it 
was  since  she  had  read  anything  for  the  joy  of  it!  — 
anything  that  in  some  shape  or  other  was  not  the  mere 
pemmican  of  the  Suffrage  Movement;  dusty  arguments 
for,  or  exasperating  arguments  against.  She  plunged 
into  poetr}'^  —  a  miscellaneous  volume  of  modern  verse 
—  and  the  new  world  of  fcelinff  in  which  her  mind  had 


25"©  Delia  Blanchflower 

begun  to  move,  grew  rich,  and  deep,  and  many-col- 
oured about  her. 

Surely  —  a  sound  at  the  gate !  She  sat  up,  crimson. 
Well  ?  —  she  was  going  to  make  friends  with  her  guar- 
dian —  to  bury  the  hatchet  —  for  a  whole  fortnight  at 
least.  Only  that.  Nothing  more  —  nothing  —  noth- 
ing! 

Steps  approached.  She  hastily  unearthed  a  neg- 
lected work-basket,  and  a  very  ancient  piece  of  half- 
done  embroidery.  Was  there  a  thimble  anywhere  — 
or  needles!  Yes!  —  by  good  luck.  Heavens!  —  what 
shamming!  She  bent  over  the  dingy  bit  of  silk,  her 
cheeks  dimpling  with  laughter. 

Their  first  greetings  were  done,  and  Winnington  was 
sitting  by  her  —  astride  a  chair,  his  arms  lying  along 
the  top  of  it,  his  eyes  looking  down  upon  her,  as  she 
made  random  stitches  in  what  looked  like  a  futurist 
design. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  wrote  me  a  very,  very  nice 
letter.?  "  and  as  he  spoke,  she  heard  in  his  voice  that 
tone  —  that  lost  tone,  which  she  had  heard  in  it  at 
their  very  first  interview,  before  she  had  chilled  and 
flouted  him,  and  made  his  life  a  burden  to  him.  Her 
pulses  leapt;  but  she  did  not  look  up. 

"  I  wonder  whether  —  you  quite  deserved  it  ?  You 
were  angry  with  me  —  for  nothing !  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  agree !  "  The  voice  now  was  a 
little  dry,  and  a  pair  of  very  keen  grey  eyes  examined 
her  partially  hidden  face. 

She  pushed  her  work  away  and  looked  up. 

"  You  ought !  "  she  said  vehemently.  "  You  accused 
me  —  practically  —  of  flirting  with  Mr.  Lathrop. 
And  I  was  doing  nothing  of  the  kind ! " 


Delia  Blanchflower  251 

He  laughed. 

"  I  never  imagined  that  you  were  —  or  could  be  — 
flirting  with  Mr.  Lathrop." 

"  Then  why  did  you  threaten  to  give  me  up  if  I  went 
on  seeing  him  ?  " 

He  hesitated  —  but  said  at  last  —  gravely  — 

"  Because  I  could  not  take  the  responsibility." 

"How  would  it  help  me  —  to  give  me  up?  Accord- 
ing to  you  — "  she  breathed  fast  — "  I  should  only  — 
go  to  perdition  —  the  quicker!"  Her  eyes  still 
laughed,  but  behind  the  laughter  there  was  a  rush  of 
feeling  which  communicated  itself  to  him. 

"  May  I  suggest  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  go  to 
perdition  —  at  all  —  fast  or  slow?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  Silence  followed ;  which  Win- 
nington  broke. 

"  You  said  you  would  like  to  come  and  see  some  of 
the  village  people  —  your  own  people  —  and  the  school  ? 
Was  that  serious  ?  " 

"  Certainly !  "  She  raised  an  indignant  countenance. 
"  I  suppose  you  think  —  like  everybody  —  that  be- 
cause I  want  the  vote,  I  can't  care  about  anything 
else?" 

"  You'll  admit  it  has  a  way  of  driving  everything 
else  out,"  he  said,  mildly.  "  Have  you  ever  been  Into 
the  village  —  for  a  month  ?  —  for  two  months  ?  The 
things  you  wanted  have  been  done.  But  you  haven't 
been  to  see." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Shall  I  come  now  ?  " 

"  If  it  suits  you.     I've  saved  the  afternoon." 

She  ran  out  of  the  room  to  put  on  hor  things,  up- 
setting as  she  did  so,  the  work-box  with  which  she 
had  been  masquerading,   and   quite  unconscious   of   it. 


252  Delia  Blanchflower 

WInnington,  smiling  to  himself,  stooped  to  pick  up  the 
reels  and  skeins  of  silk.  One,  a  skein  of  pink  silk  with 
which  she  had  been  working,  he  held  in  his  hand  a 
moment,  and,  suddenl}^  put  in  his  pocket.  After  which 
he  drifted  absently  to  the  hearthrug,  and  stood  waiting 
for  her,  hat  in  hand.  He  was  thinking  of  that  moment 
In  the  wintry  dawn  when  he  had  read  her  letter.  The 
shock  of  emotion  returned  upon  him.  But  what  was  he 
to  do  ?  What  was  really  in  her  mind  ?  —  or,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  in  his  own? 

She  re-appeared,  radiant  in  a  moleskin  cap  and  furs, 
and  then  they  both  awkwardly  remembered  —  he,  that 
he  had  made  no  inquiry  about  Weston,  and  she,  that 
she  had  said  nothing  of  Gertrude  Marvell's  hurried  de- 
parture. 

"Your  poor  maid.'*  Tell  me  about  her.  Oh,  but 
she'll  do  well.  We'll  take  care  of  her.  France  Is  an 
awfully  good  doctor." 

Her  eyes  thanked  him.  She  gave  him  a  brief  ac- 
count of  Weston's  state ;  then  looked  away. 

"Do  3'^ou  know  —  that  I'm  quite  alone?  Gertrude 
went  up  to  town  this  morning?  " 

Winnlngton  gave  a  low  whistle  of  astonishment. 

"  She  had  to  — "  said  Delia,  hurriedly.  "  It  was  the 
office  ■ —  they  couldn't  do  without  her." 

"  I  thought  she  had  undertaken  to  be  3'our  chap- 
eron ?  " 

The  girl  coloured. 

"  Well  yes  —  but  of  course  —  the  other  claim  came 
first." 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  admit  that,"  said  Winning- 
ton,  with  energy.  "  Miss  Marvell  has  left  you 
alone?  —  alone?' — at   a  moment's   notice  —  with  your 


Delia  Blanchflower  2^3 

maid  desperately  ill  —  and  without  a  word  to  me,  or 
anybody?  "     His  eyes  sparkled. 

"  Don't  let's  quarrel ! "  cried  Delia,  as  she  stood 
opposite  to  him,  putting  on  her  gloves.  "  Don't! 
Not  to-day  —  not  this  afternoon !  And  we're  sure  to 
quarrel  if  we  talk  about  Gertrude." 

His  indignation  broke  up  in  laughter. 

"  Very  well.  We  won't  mention  her.  Well,  but  look 
here  — "  he  pondered  — "  You  imist  have  somebody.  I 
would  propose  that  Alice  should  come  and  keep  you 
company,  but  I  left  her  in  bed  with  what  looks  like  the 
flu.  Ah  !  —  I  have  it.  But  —  am  I  really  to  advise .'' 
You  are  twenty-one,  remember,  • —  nearly  twenty-two !  " 

The  tender  sarcasm  in  his  voice  brought  a  flood  of 
colour  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Go  on !  "  she  said,  and  stood  quivering. 

"  Would  you  consider  asking  Lady  Tonbridge  to 
come  and  stay  with  you.^*     Nora  is  away  on  a  visit." 

Delia  moved  quietly  to  the  writing-table,  pulled  off 
her  gloves,  sat  down  to  write  a  note.  He  watched  her, 
standing  behind  her;  his  strained  yet  happy  look  rest- 
ing on  the  beautiful  dark  head. 

Slie  rose,  and  held  out  the  note,  addressed  to  Lady 
Tonbridge.  He  took  the  note,  and  the  hand  together. 
The  temptation  was  irresistible.  He  raised  the  hand 
and  kissed  it.  Both  were  naturally  reminded  of  the 
only  previous  occasion  on  which  he  had  done  such  a 
thing;  and  as  he  dropped  his  hold,  Delia  saw  the  ugly 
scar  which  would  always  mark  his  left  wrist. 

"Thank  you!" — he  said  warmly — "That'll  be  an 
immense  relief  to  my  mind." 

"  You  mustn't  think  she'll  convert  me,"  said  Delia, 
quickly. 


254  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Why,  she's  a  Suffragist !  " 

Delia  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Pour  rire!  " 

"Let's  leave  the  horrid  subject  alone  —  shall  we?" 

Delia  assented;  and  they  set  out,  just  as  the  winter 
sun  of  a  bright  and  brilliant  afternoon  was  beginning 
to  drop  towards  its  setting. 

When  Delia  afterwards  looked  back  on  those  two 
hours  in  Mark  Winnington's  company,  she  remembered 
them  as  a  time  enskied  and  glorified.  First,  the  mere 
pleasure  of  the  senses  —  the  orange  glow  of  the  Jan- 
uary evening,  the  pleasant  crackling  of  the  frosty 
ground,  the  exhilaration  of  exercise,  and  of  the  keen 
pungent  air;  then  the  beauty  of  the  village  and  of  the 
village  lanes  in  the  dusk,  of  the  blue  smoke  drifting 
along  the  hill,  of  the  dim  reds  and  whites  of  the  old 
houses,  and  the  occasional  gleams  of  fire  and  lamp 
through  the  small-paned  windows ;  the  gaiety  of  the 
children  racing  home  from  school,  the  dignity  of  the  old 
labourers,  the  seemliness  of  the  young.  It  was  good  to 
be  alive  —  in  England  —  breathing  English  air.  It 
was  good  to  be  young  and  strong-limbed,  with  all  one's 
life  before  one. 

And  next  —  and  greater  —  there  was  the  pleasure  of 
Winnington  beside  her,  of  his  changed  manner,  of  their 
new  comradeship.  She  felt  even  a  curious  joy  in  the 
difference  of  age  between  them.  Now  that  by  some 
queer  change,  she  had  ceased  to  stand  on  her  dignity 
with  him,  to  hold  him  arrogantly  at  arm's  length,  there 
emerged  in  her  a  childish  confidence  and  sweetness,  en- 
chanting to  the  man  on  whom  it  played.  "  May  I?  — " 
"  Do  you  think  I  might  ?  — "  she  would  say,  gently, 
throwing  out  some  suggestion  or  other,  as  they  went  in 


Delia  Blanchfiower  255 

and  out  of  the  cottages,  and  the  humbleness  in  her  dark 
e^'es,  as  though  a  queen  stooped,  began  to  turn  his 
head. 

And  how  beautiful  this  common  human  life  seemed 
that  evening  —  after  all  the  fierce  imaginings  in  which 
she  had  lived  so  long!  In  the  great  towns  beyond  the 
hills,  women  were  still  starved  and  sweated, —  still  en- 
slaved and  degi'aded.  Man  no  doubt  was  still  the 
stupid  and  vicious  tyrant,  the  Man-Beast  that  Gertrude 
Marvell  believed  him.  But  here  in  this  large  English 
village,  how  the  old  primal  relations  stood  out !  —  sor- 
row-laden and  sin-stained  often,  yet  how  touching,  how 
worthy,  in  the  main,  of  reverence  and  tenderness !  As 
they  went  in  and  out  of  the  cottages  of  her  father's 
estate,  the  cottages  where  Winnington  was  at  home,  and 
she  a  stranger,  all  that  "  other  side  "  of  any  great  ar- 
gument began  to  speak  to  her  —  without  words.  The 
world  of  politics  and  its  machinery,  how  far  away !  — 
instead,  the  world  of  human  need,  and  love,  and  suffer- 
ing unveiled  itself  this  winter  evening  to  Delia's  soul, 
and  spoke  to  her  in  a  new  language.  And  always  it  was 
a  language  of  sex,  as  between  wives  and  husbands, 
mothers  and  sons,  sisters  and  brothers.  No  isolation 
of  one  sex  or  the  other.  No  possibility  of  thinking 
of  them  apart,  as  foes  and  rivals,  with  jarring  rights 
and  claims.  These  old  couples  tending  each  other, 
clinging  together,  after  their  children  had  left  them,  till 
their  own  last  day  should  dawn ;  these  widowed  men 
or  women,  piteously  lost  without  the  old  companion, 
like  the  ox  left  alone  in  the  furrow ;  these  young  couples 
with  their  first  babies ;  these  dutiful  or  neglectful  sons, 
these  hard  or  tender  daughters ;  these  mothers  young 
and  old,  selfish  or  devoted :  —  with  Winnington  beside 
her,  Delia  saw  them  all  anew,  heard  them  all  anew.     And 


256  Delia  Blanchflower 

Love,  in  all  its  kinds,  everywhere  the  governing  force, 
by  its  presence  or  its  absence !  —  Love  abused  and  de- 
graded, or  that  Love,  whether  in  the  sunken  eyes  of 
the  old,  or  on  the  cheeks  of  the  young,  which  is  but 
"  a  little  lower  than  the  angels." 

And  what  frankly  amazed  her  was  Winnington's  place 
in  this  world  of  labouring  folk.  He  had  given  it  ten 
years  of  service ;  not  charity,  but  simply  the  service  of 
the  good  citizen ;  moved  by  a  secret,  impelling  motive, 
which  Delia  had  yet  to  learn.  And  how  they  rewarded 
him !  She  walked  beside  a  natural  ruler,  and  felt  her 
heart  presently  big  with  the  pride  of  it. 

"  But  the  cripples  ?  "  She  enquired  for  them,  with 
a  touch  of  sarcasm.  "  So  far,"  she  said,  "  the  popula- 
tion Maumsey,  appeared  to  be  quiet  exceptionally  able- 
bodied." 

"  Goodness  !  "  said  Winnington  — ^"  I  can't  shew  you 
more  than  two  or  three  cripples  to  a  village.  Maum- 
sey only  rejoices  in  two.  My  county  school  will  col- 
lect from  the  whole  county.  And  I  should  never  have 
found  out  the  half  of  them,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Susy 
Amberley." 

"How  did  she  discover  them?"  asked  Delia,  without 
any  sort  of  cordiality. 

"  We  —  the  County  Council  —  put  the  enquiry  into 
her  hands.  I  showed  her  —  a  bit.  But  she's  done  it 
admirably.  She's  a  wonderful  little  person,  Susy. 
What  the  old  parents  will  do  without  her  when  she  goes 
to  London  I  can't  think." 

"  Why  is  she  going?  " 

Winnington  shrugged  his  shoulders  kindly. 

"Wants  a  training  —  wants  something  more  to  do. 
Quite  right  —  if  it  makes  her  happy.  You  women  have 
all  grown  so  restless  nowadays."     He  laughed  into  the 


Delia  Blanchflower  257 

rather  sombre  face  beside  him.  And  the  face  lit  up  — 
amazingly. 

"  Because  the  world's  so  marvellous"  said  Delia,  with 
her  passionate  look.  "  And  there's  so  little  time  to  ex- 
plore it  in.  You  men  have  always  known  that.  Now 
we  women  know  it  too." 

He  pondered  the  remark  —  half  smiling. 

"  Well,  you'll  see  a  good  deal  of  it  before  you've 
done,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Now  come  and  look  at  what 
I've  been  trying  to  do  for  the  women  who  complained 
to  you." 

And  he  shewed  her  how  everything  had  been  arranged 
to  please  her,  at  the  cost  of  infinite  trouble,  and  much 
expense.  The  woman  with  the  eight  children  had  been 
moved  into  a  spacious  new  cottage  made  out  of  two  old 
ones ;  the  old  granny  alone  in  a  house  now  too  big  for 
her,  had  been  induced  to  take  in  a  prim  little  spinster, 
the  daughter  of  a  small  grocer  just  deceased;  and  the 
father  of  the  deficient  girl,  for  whom  Miss  Dempsey  had 
made  herself  responsible,  received  Winnington  with  a 
lightening  of  his  tired  eyes,  and  taking  him  out  of  ear- 
shot of  Delia,  told  him  how  Bessie  "  had  got  through 
her  trouble,"  and  was  now  earning  money  at  some  sim- 
ple hand-work  under  Miss  Dempsey's  care. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  Were  doing  all  this ! "  said  Delia, 
reniorsefull}',  as  they  walked  along  the  village  street. 
"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  " 

"  I  think  I  did  tell  you  —  once  or  twice.  But  you 
had  other  things  to  think  about." 

"  I  hadn't ! "  said  Delia,  with  angry  energy.  "  I 
hadn't,  you  needn't  make  excuses  for  me !  " 

He  smiled  at  her,  a  little  gravely,  but  said  nothing  — 
till  they  reached  a  path  leading  to  an  isolated  cottage  — 

"Here's  a  cripple  at  last!  —  Susy!  —  You  here.''" 


258  Delia  Blanchflower 

For  as  the  door  opened  to  his  knoclc,  a  lady  rose  from 
a  low  seat,  and  faced  them. 

Winnington  grasped  her  by  the  hand. 

"  I  thought  you  were  already  gone." 

"  No  —  they've  put  it  off  again  for  a  week  or  two  — 
no  vacancy  yet." 

She  shook  hands  formally  with  Delia.  "  I  came  to 
have  another  look  at  this  bo3^     Isn't  he  splendid?  " 

She  pointed  to  a  grinning  child  of  five  sitting  on  the 
edge  of  the  kitchen  table,  and  dangling  a  pair  of  heavily 
ironed  legs.  The  mother  proudly  shewed  them.  He 
had  been  three  months  in  the  Orthopaedic  Hospital,  she 
told  Delia.  The  legs  twisted  with  rickets  had  been 
broken  and  set  twice,  and  now  he  v/as  "  doing  fine." 
She  set  him  down,  and  made  him  walk.  "  I  never 
thought  to  see  him  do  that !  "  she  said,  her  wan  face 
shining.  "  And  it's  all  his  doing  — "  she  pointed  to 
Winnington,  "  and  Miss  Susy's." 

Meanwhile  Susy  and  Winnington  were  deep  in  con- 
versation —  very  technical  much  of  it  —  about  a  host 
of  subjects  they  seemed  to  have  in  common. 

Delia  silent  and  rather  restless,  watched  them  both, 
the  girl's  sweet,  already  faded,  face,  and  Winnington's 
expression.  When  they  emerged  from  the  cottage  Susy 
said  shyly  to  Delia  — 

"  Won't  you  come  to  tea  with  me  some  day  next 
week?" 

"  Thank  you.  I  should  like  to.  But  my  maid  is 
very  ill.     Else  I  should  be  in  London." 

"  Oh,  I'm  very  sorry.     May  I  come  to  you?  " 

Delia  thanked  her  coldl3\  She  could  have  beaten 
herself  for  a  rude,  ungracious  creature ;  ^'^et  for  the 
life  of  her  she  could  not  command  another  manner. 
Susy  drew  back.     She  and  Winnington  began  to  talk 


I 


Delia  Blanchfiower  259 

again,  ranging  over  persons  and  incidents  quite  un- 
known to  Delia  —  the  frank  talk,  full  of  matter  of  com- 
rades in  a  public  service.  And  again  Delia  watched 
them  acutely  —  jealous  —  yet  not  in  any  ordinary 
sense.  When  Susy  turned  back  towards  the  Rectory, 
Delia  said  abruptly  — 

"  She's  helped  you  a  great  deal?  " 

"  Susy !  '*  He  went  off  at  score,  ending  with  — 
"  What  France  and  I  shall  do  without  her,  I  don't  know. 
If  we  could  only  get  more  women  —  scores  more 
women  —  to  do  the  work !  There  we  sit,  perched  up 
aloft  on  the  Council,  and  what  we  want  are  the  women 
to  advise  us,  and  the  women's  hands  —  to  do  the  little 
things  —  which  make  just  all  the  difference !  " 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  said  sorely  — 

"  I  suppose  that  means,  that  if  we  did  all  the  work 
we  might  do  —  we  needn't  bother  about  the  vote." 

He  turned  upon  with  animation  — 

"  I  vow  I  wasn't  thinking  about  the  vote ! " 

"  Miss  Amberley  doesn't  seem  to  bother  about  it." 

Winnington's  voice   shewed  amusement. 

"  I  can't  imagine  Susy  a  suff.  It  simply  isn't  in 
her." 

"  I  know  plenty  of  suffragists  just  as  good  and  use- 
ful as  she  is,"  said  Delia,  bristling. 

Winnington  did  not  immediately  reply.  They  had 
left  the  village  behind,  and  were  walking  up  the  Maum- 
sey  lane  in  a  gathering  darkness,  each  electrically  con- 
scious of  the  other.  At  last  he  said  in  a  changed 
tone  — 

"  Have  I  been  saying  anything  to  wound  you?  I 
didn't  mean  it." 

She  laughed  unsteadily. 

"  You   never    say    anything   to   wound   me.     I   was 


26o  Delia  Blanchflower 

only  —  a  kind  of  fretful  porcupine  —  standing  up  for 
my  side." 

"  And  the  last  thought  in  my  mind  to-night  was  to 
attack  your  '  side,'  "  he  protested. 

Her  tremulous  sense  drank  in  the  gentleness  of  his 
voice,  the  joy  of  his  strong,  enveloping  presence,  and 
the  sweetness  of  her  own  surrender  which  had  brought 
him  back  to  her,  the  thought  of  it  vibrating  between 
them,  unspoken.  Until,  suddenly,  at  the  door  of  the 
Abbey,  Winnington  halted  and  took  her  by  both  hands. 

"  I  must  go  home.  Good-night.  Have  3^ou  got 
books  to  amuse  3'ou  ?  " 

"  Plenty." 

"  Poor  child !  —  all  alone  !  But  you'll  have  Lady 
Tonbridge  to-morrow." 

"  How  do  you  know?      She  mayn't  come." 

"  I'm  going  there  now.  I'll  make  her.  You  —  you 
won't  be  doing  any  more  embroidery  to-night.?  " 

He  looked  at  her  sljly.      Delia  laughed  out. 

"  There !  —  when  one  tries  to  be  feminine,  that's  how 
you  mock  !  " 

"  '  il/oc-A,-.' '  I  admired.  Good-night!  —  I  shall  be 
here  to-morrow," 

He  was  gone  —  into  the  darkness. 

Delia  entered  the  lonely  house,  in  a  bewilderment  of 
feeling.  As  she  passed  Gertrude's  deserted  sitting-room 
on  her  way  to  the  staircase,  she  saw  that  the  parlour- 
maid had  lit  a  useless  lamp  there.  She  went  in  to  put 
it  out.  As  she  did  so,  a  torn  paper  among  the  litter  on 
the  floor  attracted  her  notice.  She  stooped  and  took 
it  up. 

It  seemed  to  be  a  fragment  of  a  plan  —  a  plan  of  a 
house.  It  shewed  two  series  of  rooms,  divided  by  a 
long  passage.     One  of  the   rooms   was  marked   "  Red 


Delia  Blanchiiower  261 

Parlour,"  another,  "  Hall,"  and  at  the  end  of  the  pas- 
sage, there  were  some  words,  clearly  in  Gertrude  Mar- 
veil's  handwriting  — 

"  Garden  door,  nvrth.''' 

With  terror  in  her  heart,  Delia  brought  the  frag- 
ment to  the  lamp,  and  examined  every  word  and  line  of 
it 

Recollections  flashed  into  her  mind,  and  turned  her 
pale.  That  what  she  held  was  part  of  a  general  plan 
of  the  Monk  Lawrence  ground-floor,  she  was  certain  — 
dismally  certain.     And  Gertrude  had  made  it.     Why? 

Delia  tore  the  paper  into  shreds  and  burnt  the  shreds. 
Afterwards  she  spent  an  oppressed  and  miserable  night. 
Her  friend  reproached  her,  on  the  one  side ;  and  Win- 
nington,  on  the  other. 


Chapter  XIV 

LADY  TONBRIDGE  was  sitting  in  the  window- 
seat  of  a  little  sitting-room  adjoining  her  bed- 
room at  Maumsey  Abbey.  That  the  young  mistress  of 
Maumsey  had  done  her  best  to  make  her  guest  comfort- 
able, that  guest  most  handsomely  acknowledged.  Some 
of  the  few  pretty  things  which  the  house  contained  had 
been  gathered  there.  The  chintz  covered  sofa  and 
chairs,  even  though  the  chintz  was  ugly,  had  the  pleas- 
ant country-house  look,  which  suggests  afternoon  tea, 
and  chatting  friends ;  a  bright  fire,  flowers  and  a  lavish 
strewing  of  books  completed  the  hospitable  impression. 
Yet  Madeleine  Tonbridge  had  by  no  means  come  to 
Maumsey  Abbey,  at  Winnington's  bidding,  as  to  a  Land 
of  Cockaigne.  She  at  all  events  regarded  Delia  as  a 
"  handful,"  and  was  on  the  watch  day  by  day  for  things 
outrageous.  She  could  not  help  liking  the  beautiful 
creature  —  almost  loving  her !  But  Delia  was  still  a 
"  Daughter  of  Revolt  " —  apparently  unrepentant ; 
that  dangerous  fanatic,  her  pretended  chaperon,  was 
still  in  constant  correspondence  with  her ;  the  papers 
teemed  with  news  of  militant  outrages,  north,  south,  east 
and  west ;  and  riotous  doings  were  threatened  for  the 
meetings  of  Parliament  by  Delia's  Society.  On  all 
these  matters  Delia  shut  her  proud  lips.  Indeed  her 
new  reticence  with  regard  to  militant  doings  and  be- 
liefs struck  Lady  Tonbridge  as  more  alarming  than 
the  young  and  arrogant  defiance  with  which  on  her 
first  arrival  she  had  been  wont  to  throw  them  at  the 

262 


Delia  Blanchfiower  263 

world.  Madeleine  could  not  rid  herself  of  the  impres- 
sion during  these  weeks  that  Delia  had  some  secret 
cause  of  anxiety  connected  with  the  militant  propa- 
ganda. She  was  often  depressed,  and  there  were  mo- 
ments when  she  shewed  a  nervousness  not  easily  ac- 
counted for.  She  scarcely  ever  mentioned  Gertrude 
Marvell ;  and  she  never  wrote  her  letters  in  public ; 
while  those  she  received,  she  would  carry  away  to  the 
gun  room  —  which  she  had  now  made  her  own  par- 
ticular den  —  before  she  opened  them. 

At  the  same  time,  if  Weston  recovered  from  the 
operation,  in  three  weeks  or  so  it  would  be  possible  for 
Delia  to  leave  Maumsey;  and  it  was  generally  under- 
stood that  she  would  then  join  her  friend  in  London, 
just  in  time  for  the  opening  of  Parliament.  For  the 
moment,  it  was  plain  she  was  not  engaged  in  any  violent 
doings.     But  who  could  answer  for  the  future? 

And  meanwhile,  what  was  Mark  Winnington  about? 
It  was  all  very  well  to  sit  there  trifling  with  the  pages 
of  the  Quarterly  Review!  In  her  moments  of  solitude 
by  night  or  day,  during  the  five  days  she  had  already 
spent  at  Maumsey,  IMadeleine  had  never  really  given 
her  mind  to  anything  else  but  the  engrossing  question. 
"  Is  he  in  love  with  her  —  or  is  he  not?  " 

Of  course  she  had  foreseen  —  had  feared  —  the  pos- 
sibility of  it,  from  that  very  first  moment,  almost  — 
when  Winnington  had  written  to  her  describing  the 
terms  of  Bob  Blanchflower's  will,  and  his  own  accept- 
ance of  the  guardianship. 

Yet  why  "  feared  "?  Had  she  not  for  years  desired 
few  things  so  sincerely  as  to  see  Winnington  happily 
married?  As  to  that  old  tragedy,  with  its  romantic 
effect  upon  his  life,  her  first  acquiescence  in  that  effect, 
as   something   irrevocable,  had   worn   away   with  time. 


264  Delia  Blanchflower 

It  now  seemed  to  her  an  intolerable  thing  that  Agnes 
Clay's  death  should  forever  stand  between  Winnington 
and  love.  It  was  positively  anti-social  —  bad  citizen- 
ship —  that  such  a  man  as  Mark  Winnington  should 
not  produce  sons  and  daughters  for  the  State,  when 
all  the  wastrels  and  cheats  in  creation  were  so  active  in 
the  business. 

All  the  same  she  had  but  rarely  ventured  to  attack 
him  on  the  subject,  and  the  results  had  not  been  en- 
couraging. She  was  certain  that  he  had  entered  upon 
the  guardianship  of  Delia  Blanchflower  in  complete 
single-mindedness  - —  confident,  disdainfully  confident, 
in  his  own  immunity ;  and  after  that  first  outburst  into 
which  friendship  had  betrayed  her,  she  had  not  dared 
to  return  to  the  subject.  But  she  had  watched  him  — - 
with  the  lynx  eyes  of  a  best  friend ;  and  that  best  friend, 
a  woman  to  whom  love  affairs  were  the  most  interesting 
things  in  existence.  In  which,  of  course,  she  knew  she 
was  old-fashioned,  and  behind  the  mass  of  the  sex,  now 
racing  toward  what  she  understood  was  called  the 
"  economic  independence  of  women  " — i.e.  a  life  with- 
out man. 

But  in  spite  of  watching,  she  was  much  perplexed  — 
as  to  both  the  persons  concerned.  She  had  now  been 
nearly  a  week  at  Maumsey,  in  obedience  to  Delia's 
invitation  and  Winnington's  urging.  The  opportunity 
indeed  of  getting  to  know  Mark's  beautiful  —  and 
troublesome  —  ward,  more  intimately,  was  extremely 
welcome  to  her  curiosit}^  Hitherto  Gertrude  Marvell 
had  served  as  an  eflTective  barrier  between  Delia  and 
her  neighbours.  The  neighbours  did  not  want  to  know 
j\Iiss  Marvell,  and  ]Miss  Marvell,  Madeleine  Tonbridge 


Delia  Blanchfiower  265 

was  certain,  had  never  intended  that  the  neighbours 
should  rob  her  of  Delia. 

But  now  Gertrude  Marvell  had  in  some  strange  sud- 
den way  vacated  her  post ;  and  the  fortress  lay  open  to 
attack  and  capture,  were  an3-one  strong  enough  to 
seize  it.  Moreover  Delia's  visitor  had  not  been  twenty- 
four  hours  in  the  house  before  she  had  perceived  that 
Delia's  attitude  to  her  guardian  was  new,  and  full  of 
suggestion  to  the  shrewd  bj'stander.  Winnington  had 
clearly  begun  to  interest  the  girl  prof oundW  —  both  in 
himself,  and  in  his  relation  to  her.  She  now  wished  to 
please  him,  and  was  nervously  anxious  to  avoid  hurt- 
ing or  offending  him.  She  Avas  always  conscious  of  his 
neighbourhood  or  his  mood ;  she  was  eager  —  though 
she  tried  to  conceal  it  —  for  infomiation  about  him ;  and 
three  nights  already  had  Lady  Tonbridge  lingered  over 
Delia's  bedroom  fire,  the  girl  on  the  rug  at  her  feet, 
while  the  elder  woman  poured  out  her  recollections  of 
i\Iark  Winnington,  from  the  days  when  she  and  he  had 
been  young  together. 

As  to  that  vanished  betrothed,  Agnes  Clay, —  the 
heroine  of  Winnington's  brief  engagement  —  Delia's 
thirst  for  knowledge,  in  a  restless,  suppressed  way,  had 
been  insatiable.  Was  she  jealous  of  that  poor  ghost, 
and  of  all  those  delicate,  domestic  qualities  with  which 
her  biographer  could  not  but  invest  her?  The  daugh- 
ter of  a  Dean  of  Wanchester  —  retiring,  spiritual,  ten- 
der,—  suggesting  a  cloistered  atmosphere,  and  The 
Christian  Year  —  she  was  still  sharp  In  Madeleine's 
recollection,  and  that  lady  felt  a  certain  secret  and 
mischievous  zest  in  drawing  her  portrait,  while  Delia, 
her  black  brows  drawn  together,  her  full  red  mouth 
compressed,  sat  silent. 


266  Delia  Blanchflower 

Then  —  WInnington  as  a  friend !  —  upon  that  theme 
indeed  Madeleine  had  used  her  brightest  colours.  And 
to  make  this  passive  listener  understand  what  friend- 
ship meant  in  Winnington's  soul,  it  had  been  necessary 
for  the  speaker  to  tell  her  own  story,  as  much  at  least 
as  it  was  possible  for  her  to  tell,  and  Delia  to  hear.  A 
hasty  marriage  — "  my  own  fault,  my  dear,  as  much 
as  my  parents' !  " —  twelve  years  of  torment  and  hu- 
miliation at  the  hands  of  a  bad  man,  descending  rapidly 
to  the  pit,  and  quite  willing  to  drag  his  wife  and  child 
with  him,  ending  in  a  separation  largely  arranged  by 
Winnington  —  and  then  — 

"  We  retired,  Nora  and  I,  on  a  decent  allowance,  my 
own  money  really,  only  like  a  fool,  I  had  let  it  all  get 
into  Alfred's  hands.  We  took  a  house  at  Richmond. 
Nora,  was  fifteen.  For  two  years  my  husband  paid  the 
money.  Then  he  wrote  to  say  he  was  tired  of  doing 
without  his  daughter,  and  he  required  her  to  live  with 
him  for  six  months  in  the  year,  as  a  condition  of  con- 
tinuing the  allowance.  I  refused.  We  would  sooner 
both  of  us  have  thrown  ourselves  into  the  Thames. 
Alfred  blustered  and  threatened  —  but  he  could  do  noth- 
ing —  except  cut  off  the  allowance,  which  he  did,  at 
once.  Then  Mark  Winnington  found  me  the  cottage 
here,  and  made  everything  smooth  for  us.  I  wouldn't 
take  any  money  from  him,  though  he  was  abominably 
ready  to  give  it  us !  But  he  got  me  lessons  —  he  got 
me  friends.  He's  made  everybody  here  feel  for  us,  and 
respect  us.  He's  managed  the  little  bits  of  property 
we've  got  left  —  he's  watched  over  Nora  —  he's  been 
our  earthly  Providence  —  and  we  both  adore  him !  " 

On  which  the  speaker,  with  a  flickering  smile  and 
tear-dashed  eyes,  had  taken  Delia's  face  in  her  two 
slender  hands  — 


Delia  Blanchflower  267 

"  And  don't  be  such  a  fool,  dear,  as  to  Imagine  there's 
been  anything  in  it,  ever,  but  the  purest  friendship  and 
good-heartedness  that  ever  bound  three  people  together ! 
My  greatest  joy  would  be  to  see  him  married  —  to  a 
■woman  worthy  of  him  —  if  there  is  one !  And  he  I 
suppose  will  find  his  reward  in  marrying  Nora  —  to  some 
nice  fellow.  He  begins  to  match-make  for  her  al- 
ready." 

Delia  slowly  withdrew  herself. 

"And  he  himself  doesn't  Intend  to  marry?"  She 
asked  the  question,  clasping  her  long  arms  round  her 
knees,  as  she  sat  on  the  floor,  her  dark  eyes  —  defiantly 
steady  on  her  guest's  face. 

Lady  Tonbridge  could  hear  her  own  answer. 

"L'homme  propose !  Let  the  right  woman  try ! " 
Whereupon  Delia,  a  delicious  figure.  In  a  slim  white 
dressing-gown,  a  flood  of  curly  brown  hair  falling  about 
her  neck  and  shoulders,  had  sprung  up,  and  bidden  her 
guest  a  hasty  good-night. 

One   other   small   incident   she   recalled. 

A  propos  of  some  anxious  calculation  made  by  Win- 
nington's  sister  Alice  Matheson  one  day  In  talk  with 
Lady  Tonbridge  —  Delia  being  present  —  as  to  whether 
Mark  could  possibly  afford  a  better  motor  than  the 
"  ramshackle  little  horror  "  he  was  at  present  depend- 
ent on,  Delia  had  said  abruptly,  on  the  departure  of 
Mrs.  Matheson  — 

"  But  surely  the  legacy  my  father  left  Mr.  Winning- 
ton  would  get  a  new  motor ! " 

"  But  he  hasn't  taken  it,  and  never  will ! "  Lady 
Tonbridge  had  cried,  amazed  at  the  girl's  Ignorance. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Delia  had  demanded,  almost  fiercely, 
looking  very  tall,  and  oddly  resentful. 

Why    not  ?     "  Because    one    doesn't    take    payment 


268  Delia  Blanchflower 

for  that  sort  of  thing !  "  had  been  Mark's  laughing  ex- 
planation, and  the  only  explanation  that  she,  Madeleine, 
had  been  able  to  get  out  of  him.  She  handed  it  on  — 
to  Delia's  evident  discomfort.  So,  all  along,  this  very 
annoying  —  though  attaching  —  young  woman  had  im- 
agined that  Winnington  was  being  handsomely  paid  for 
putting  up  with  her.'' 

And  Winnington.? 

Here  again,  it  was  plain  there  was  a  change  of  atti- 
tude, though  what  it  meant  Madeleine  could  not  satis- 
factorily settle  with  herself.  In  the  early  days  of  his 
guardianship  he  had  been  ready  enough  to  come  to 
her,  his  most  intimate  woman-friend,  and  talk  about 
his  ward,  though  always  with  that  chivalrous  delicacy 
which  was  his  gift  among  men.  Of  late  he  had  been 
much  less  ready  to  talk ;  a  good  sign !  And  now,  since 
Gertrude  Marvell's  blessed  departure,  he  was  more  at 
Maumsey  than  he  had  ever  been  before.  He  seemed  in- 
deed to  be  pitting  his  own  influence  against  Miss  Mar- 
vell's, and  in  his  modest  way,  yet  consciously,  to  be  tak- 
ing Delia  in  hand,  and  endeavouring  to  alter  her  out- 
look on  life ;  clearing  away,  so  far  as  he  could,  the  at- 
mosphere of  angry,  hearsay  propaganda  in  which  she 
had  spent  her  recent  years,  and  trying  to  bring  her 
face  to  face  with  the  deeper  loves  and  duties  and  sor- 
rows which  she  in  her  headstrong  youth  knew  so  little 
about,  while  they  entered  so  profoundly  into  his  own 
upright  and  humane  character. 

Well,  but  did  all  this  mean  love?  —  the  desire  of  the 
man  for  the  woman. 

Madeleine  Tonbridge  pondered  it.  She  recollected 
a  number  of  little  acts  and  sayings,  throwing  light  upon 
his  profound  feeling  for  the  girl,  his  sympathy  with  her 


Delia  Blanchflower  269 

convictions,  her  difficulties,  her  wild  revolts  against  ex- 
isting abuses  and  tyrannies.  "  I  learn  from  her  " — 
he  had  said  once,  in  conversation, — "  she  teaches  me 
many  things."  Madeleine  could  have  laughed  in  his 
face  —  but  for  the  passionate  sincerity  in  his  look. 

One  thing  she  perceived  —  that  he  was  abundantly 
roused  on  the  subject  of  tliat  man  Lathrop's  acquaint- 
ance with  his  ward.  Lathrop's  name  had  not  been  men- 
tioned since  Lady  Tonbridge's  arrival,  but  she  received 
the  impression  of  a  constant  vigilance  on  Winnington's 
part,  and  a  certain  mystery  and  unhappiness  on  Delia's. 
As  to  the  notion  that  such  a  man  as  Paul  Lathrop  could 
have  any  attraction  for  such  a  girl  as  Delia  Blanch- 
flower,  the  idea  was  simply  preposterous, —  except  on 
the  general  theory  that  no  one  is  really  sane,  and 
every  woman  "  is  at  heart  a  rake."  But  of  course  there 
was  the  common  interest,  or  what  appeared  to  be  a 
common  interest  in  this  militant  society  to  which  Delia 
was  still  so  intolerably  committed!  And  an  unscrupu- 
lous man  might  easily  make  capital  out  of  it. 

At  this  stage  in  the  rambhng  reverie  which  possessed 
her,  Lady  Tonbridge  was  aware  of  footsteps  on  the 
gravel  outside.  Winnington?  He  had  proposed  to 
take  Delia  for  a  ride  that  afternoon,  to  distract  her 
mind  from  Weston's  state,  and  from  the  operation  which 
was  to  take  place  early  the  following  morning.  She 
drew  the  curtain  aside. 

Paul  Lathrop ! 

Madeleine  felt  herself  flushing  with  surprise  and  in- 
dignation. The  visitor  was  let  in  immediately.  It 
sui'ely  was  her  duty  to  go  down  and  play  watch- 
dog. 

She  firmly  rose.  But  as  she  did  so,  there  was  a 
knock  at  her  door,  and  Delia  hurriedly  entered. 


270  Delia  Blanchflower 

*'  I  —  I  thought  I'd  better  say  —  Mr.  Lathrop's  just 
come  to  see  me  —  on  business.  I'm  so  sorry,  but  you 
won't  mind  my  coming  to  say  so  ?  " 

Lady  Tonbridgc  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  You  mean  —  you  want  to  see  him  alone?  All  right. 
I'll  come  down  presently." 

Delia  disappeared. 

For  more  than  half  an  hour  did  that  "  disreputable 
creature,"  as  Lady  Tonbridge  roundly  dubbed  him,  re- 
main closeted  with  Delia,  in  Delia's  drawing-room. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  time  the  visitor  overhead  was 
walking  to  and  fro  impatiently,  vowing  to  herself  that 
she  was  bound  —  positively  bound  to  Winnington  —  to 
go  down  and  dislodge  the  man.  But  just  as  she  was 
about  to  leave  her  room,  ^le  again  heard  the  front  door 
open  and  close.  She  ran  to  the  window  just  in  time  to 
see  Lathrop  departing  —  and  Winnington  arriving !  — 
on  foot  and  alone.  She  watched  the  two  men  pass  each 
other  in  the  drive  —  Winnington's  start  of  haughty 
surprise  —  and  Lathrop's  smiling  and,  as  she  thought, 
insolent  greeting.  It  seemed  to  her  that  Winnington 
hesitated  — ■  was  about  to  stop  and  address  the  intruder. 
But  he  finally  passed  him  by  with  the  slightest  and 
coldest  recognition.  Lathrop's  fair  hair  and  slouching 
shoulders  disappeared  round  a  corner  of  the  drive. 
Winnington  hurried  to  the  front  door  and  entered. 

Lady  Tonbridge  resolutely  threw  herself  into  an 
arm-chair  and  took  up  a  novel. 

"  Now  let  them  have  it  out !     I  don't  interfere." 

Meanwhile  Delia,  with  a  red  spot  of  agitation  on 
either  cheek,  was  sitting  at  the  old  satin-wood  bureau  in 
the  drawing-room,  writing  a  cheque.     A  knock  at  the 


Delia  Blanchflower  271 

door  disturbed  her.  She  half  rose,  to  see  Winnlngton 
open  and  close  it. 

A  look  at  his  face  startled  her.  She  sank  back  into 
her  chair,  in  evident  confusion.  But  her  troubled  eyes 
met  his  appealingly. 

Winnington's  disturbance  was  plain. 

"  I  had  ventured  to  think  —  to  hope  — "  he  began, 
abruptly  — "  that  although  you  refused  to  give  me  your 
promise  when  I  asked  it,  yet  that  you  would  not  again  — 
or  so  soon  again  —  receive  Mr.  Lathrop  —  privately." 

Delia  rose  and  came  towards  him. 

"  I  told  Lady  Tonbridgo  not  to  come  down.  Was 
that  very  wrong  of  me?  " 

She  looked  at  him,  half  smiling,  half  hanging  her 
head. 

"  It  was  unwise  —  and,  I  think,  unkind  !  "  said  Win- 
nington,  with  energy. 

"Unkind  to  you?"  She  lifted  her  beautiful  eyes. 
There  was  something  touching  in  their  strained  expres- 
sion, and  in  her  tone. 

"  Unkind  to  yourself,  first  of  all,"  he  said,  firmly. 
"  I  must  repeat  Miss  Delia,  that  this  man  is  not  a  fit 
associate  for  you  or  any  young  girl.  You  do  yourself 
harm  by  admitting  him  —  by  allowing  him  to  see  you 
alone  —  and  you  hurt  your  friends." 

Delia  paused  a  moment. 

"  Then  you  don't  trust  me  at  all  ?  "  she  said  at  last, 
slowly. 

Winnington  melted.  How  pale  she  looked!  He 
came  forward  and  took  her  hand  — 

"  Of  course  I  trust  you !  But  yon  don't  know  — 
you  are  too  young.  You  confess  you  have  some  busi- 
ness with  Mr.  Lathrop  that  you  can't  tell  me  —  your 
guardian;  and  you  have  no  idea  to  what  misrepresenta- 


272  Delia  Blanchflower 

tions  you  expose  yourself,  or  with  what  kind  of  a  man 
you  have  to  deal !  " 

Delia  withdrew  her  hand,  and  dropped  into  a  chair  — 
her  eyes  on  the  carpet. 

"I  meant — "  she  said,  and  her  tone  trembled- — "I 
did  mean  to  have  told  you  everything  to-day." 

"  And  now  —  now  you  can't  ?  " 

She  made  no  reply,  and  in  the  silence  he  watched  her 
closely.  What  could  account  for  such  an  eclipse  of 
all  her  young  vivacity?  It  was  clear  to  him  that  that 
fellow  was  entangling  her  in  some  monstrous  way  — 
part  and  parcel  no  doubt  of  this  militant  propa- 
ganda —  and  calculating  on  developments.  Winning- 
ton's  blood  boiled.  But  while  he  stood  uncertain,  Delia 
rose,  went  to  the  bureau  where  she  had  been  writing, 
brought  thence  a  cheque,  and  mutely  offered  it. 

"What  is  this?"  he  asked. 

"  The  money  you  lent  me." 

And  to  his  astonishment  he  saw  that  the  cheque  was 
for  £500,  and  was   signed  "  Delia  Blanchflower." 

*' You  will  of  course  explain?"  he  said,  looking  at 
her  keenly.  Suddenly  Delia's  embarrassed  smile  broke 
through. 

"  It's  —  it's  only  that  I've  been  trying  to  pay  ni}' 
debts !  " 

His  patience  gave  way. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  must  tell  you  —  very  plainly  —  that 
unless  you  can  account  to  me  for  this  cheque,  I  must 
entirely  refuse  to  take  it !  " 

Delia  put  her  hands  behind  her,  like  a  scolded  child. 

"  It  is  my  very  own,"  she  protested,  mildly.  "  I  had 
some  ugly  jewels  that  my  grandmother  left  me,  and 
I  have  sold  them  —  that's  all." 

Winnington's  grey  eyes  held  her. 


Delia  Blanchflower  273 

"  H'ra  —  and  —  has  Mr.  Lathrop  had  anything  to 
do  with  the  sale  ?  " 

"  Yes !  "  She  looked  up  frankly,  still  smiling.  "  He 
has  managed  it  for  me." 

"  And  it  never  occurred  to  you  to  apply  to  your 
guardian  in  such  a  matter.''     Or  to  your  lawyer.?" 

She  laughed  —  with  what  he  admitted  was  a  very 
natural  scorn.  "  Ask  my  guardian  to  provide  me  with 
the  means  of  helping  the  *  Daughters  ' —  when  he  re- 
gards us  all  as  criminals.''  On  the  contrary,  I  wanted 
to  relieve  your  conscience,  Mr.  Winnlngton !  " 

"  I  can't  say  you  have  succeeded,"  he  said,  grimly, 
as  he  began  to  pace  the  drawing-room,  with  slow  steps, 
his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  Why  not  ?  Now  —  everything  you  give  me  —  can 
go  to  the  right  things  —  what  you  consider  the  right 
things.  And  what  is  my  own  —  my  very  own  —  I  can 
use  as  I  please." 

Yet  neither  tone  nor  gesture  were  defiant,  as  they 
would  have  been  a  few  weeks  before.  Rather  her  look 
was  wistful  —  appealing  —  as  she  stood  there,  a  per- 
plexing, but  most  charming  figure,  in  her  plain  black 
dress,  with  its  Quakerish  collar  of  white  lawn. 

He  turned  on  her  impetuously. 

"  And  Mr.  Lathrop  has  arranged  it  all  for  you .''  " 

"  Yes.  He  said  he  knew  a  good  deal  about  jewellers. 
I  gave  him  some  diamonds.  He  took  them  to  London, 
and  he  has  sold  them." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  has  even  treated  you  honestly !  " 

"  I  am  certain  he  has  done  it  honestly !  "  she  cried 
indignantly.  "  There  are  the  letters  —  from  the 
jewellers — "  And  running  to  the  bureau,  she  took 
thence  a  packet  of  letters  and  thrust  them  into  Win- 
nington's  hands. 


274  Delia  Blanchflower 

He  looked  them  through  In  silence, —  turning  to  her, 
as  he  put  them  down. 

"  I  see.  It  is  of  course  possible  that  this  firm  of 
jewellers  have  paid  Mr.  Lathrop  a  heavy  commission  be- 
hind the  scenes,  of  which  you  know  nothing.  But  I 
don't  press  that.  Indeed  I  will  assume  exactly  the  con- 
trary. I  will  suppose  that  Mr,  Lathrop  has  acted  with- 
out any  profit  to  himself.  If  so,  in  my  eyes  it  only 
makes  the  matter  worse  —  for  it  establishes  a  claim  on 
you.  Miss  Delia !  — "  his  resolute  gaze  held  her  — "  I 
do  not  take  a  farthing  of  this  money  unless  you  allow 
me  to  write  to  Mr.  Lathrop,  and  offer  him  a  reasonable 
commission  for  his  services  !  " 

"  No  —  no !     Impossible !  " 

She  turned  away  from  him,  towards  the  window,  bit- 
ing her  lip  —  in  sharp  distress. 

"  Then  I  return  you  this  cheque  " —  he  laid  it  down 
beside  her.  "  And  I  shall  replace  the  money, —  the 
£500  —  which  I  ought  never  to  have  allowed  you  to 
spend  as  you  have  done,  out  of  my  own  private  pocket." 

She  stood  silent,  looking  into  the  garden,  her  chest 
heaving.  She  thought  of  what  Lady  Tonbridge  had 
told  her  of  his  modest  means  —  and  those  generous  hid- 
den uses  of  them,  of  which  even  his  most  intimate  friends 
only  got  an  occasional  glimpse.  Suddenly  she  went  up 
to  him  — 

"  Will  you  —  will  you  promise  me  to  write  civilly  ?  " 
she  said,  in  a  wavering  voice. 

"  Certainly." 

"  You  won't  offend  —  insult  him?  " 

"  I  will  remember  that  you  have  allowed  him  to  come 
into  this  drawing-room,  and  treated  him  as  a  guest," 
said  Winnington  coldly.     "But  why,  Miss  Delia,  are 


Delia  Blanchflower  275 

you  SO  careful  about  this  man's  feelings?  And  is  it  still 
impossible  that  you  should  meet  my  wishes  —  and  refuse 
to  see  him  again?  " 

She  shook  her  head  —  mutely. 

"You  intend  —  to  see  him  again?" 

"  You   forget  —  that  we  have  —  business  together." 

Winnington  paused  a  moment,  then  came  nearer  to 
the  chair  on  which  she  had  dropped. 

"  This  last  week  —  we  have  been  very  good  friends  — 
haven't  we,  Miss  Delia?" 

"  Call  me  Delia,  please !  " 

"  Delia,  then !  —  we  have  come  to  understand  each 
other  much  better  —  haven't  we?  " 

She  made  a  drooping  sign  of  assent. 

"  Can't  I  persuade  you  —  to  be  guided  by  me  —  as 
your  father  wished  —  during  these  next  years  of  your 
life?  I  don't  ask  you  to  give  up  your  convictions  — 
your  ideals.  We  should  all  be  poor  creatures  without 
them!  But  I  do  ask  you  to  give  up  these  violent  and 
illegal  methods  —  this  violent  and  illegal  Society  — 
with  which  you  have  become  entangled.  It  will  ruin 
your  life,  and  poison  your  whole  nature !  —  unless  you 
can  shake  yourself  free.  Work  for  the  Suffrage  as 
much  as  you  like  —  but  work  for  it  honourably  —  and 
lawfully.  I  ask  you  —  I  beg  of  you !  —  to  give  up 
these  associates  • —  and  these  methods." 

The  tenderness  and  gravity  of  his  tone  touched  the 
girl's  quivering  senses  almost  unbearably.  It  was  like 
the  tenderness  of  a  woman.  She  felt  a  wild  impulse  to 
throw  herself  into  his  arms,  and  weep.  But  instead  she 
grew  very  white  and  still. 

"  I  can't !  " —  was  all  she  said,  her  eyes  on  the  ground. 
Winnington  turned  away. 


276  Delia  Blanchfiower 

Suddenly  —  a  sound  of  hasty  steps  in  the  hall  out- 
side —  and  the  door  was  opened  by  a  nurse,  in  uni- 
form. 

"  Miss  Blanchflower !  —  can  you  come?  " 
Delia  sprang  up.      She  and  the  nurse  disappeared  to- 
gether. 

Winnington  guessed  what  had  happened.  Weston 
who  was  to  face  a  frightful  operation  on  the  morrow  as 
the  only  chance  of  saving  her  life,  had  on  the  whole 
gone  through  the  fortnight  of  preparatory  treatment 
with  wonderful  courage.  But  during  the  last  forty- 
eight  hours,  there  had  been  attacks  of  crying  and  ex- 
citement, connected  with  the  making  of  her  will,  which 
she  had  insisted  on  doing,  being  herself  convinced  that 
she  would  die  under  the  knife.  Medically,  all  such 
agitation  was  disastrous.  But  the  only  person  who 
could  calm  her  at  these  moments  was  Delia,  whom  she 
loved.  And  the  girl  had  shewn  in  dealing  with  her  a 
marvellous  patience  and  strength. 

Presently  Madeleine  Tonbridge  came  downstairs  — 
with  red  eyes.  She  described  the  scene  of  which  she 
had  just  been  a  witness  in  Weston's  room.  Delia,  she 
said,  choking  again  at  the  thought  of  it,  had  been 
"  wonderful."  Then  she  looked  enquiringly  at  Win- 
nington — 

"  You  met  that  man  going  away  ?  " 

He  sat  down  beside  her,  unable  to  disguise  his  trou- 
ble of  mind,  or  to  resist  the  temptation  of  her  s^^m- 
pathy  and  their  old  friendship. 

"  I  am  certain  there  is  some  plot  afoot  —  some  des- 
perate business  —  and  they  are  trying  to  draw  her  into 
it!     What  can  we  do?  " 

Lady  Tonbridge  shook  her  head  despondently.     What 


Delia  Blanchflower  277 

indeed  could  they  do,  with  a  young  lady  of  full  age, — 
bent  on  her  own  way? 

Then  she  noticed  the  cheque  lying  open  on  the  table, 
and  asked  what  it  meant. 

"  Miss  Delia  wishes  to  repay  me  some  money  I  lent 
her,"  said  Winnington,  after  a  pause.  "  As  matters 
stand  at  present,  I  prefer  to  wait.  Would  you  kindly 
take  charge  of  the  cheque  for  her.''  No  need  to  worry 
her  about  it  again,  to-night." 

Delia  came  down  at  tea-time,  pale  and  quiet,  like 
one  from  whom  virtue  has  gone  out.  By  tacit  consent 
Winnington  and  Lady  Tonbridge  devoted  themselves  to 
her.  It  seemed  as  though  in  both  minds  there  had 
arisen  the  same  thought  of  her  as  orphaned  and  mother- 
less, the  same  pity,  the  same  resentment  that  anything 
so  lovely  should  be  unhappy  —  as  she  clearly  was ;  and 
not  only,  so  both  were  convinced,  on  account  of  her 
poor  maid. 

Winnington  stayed  on  Into  the  lamplight,  and  pres- 
ently' began  to  read  aloud.  The  scene  became  intimate 
and  domestic.  Delia  very  silent,  sat  in  a  deep  arm 
chair,  some  pretence  at  needlework  on  her  knee,  but  in 
reality  doing  nothing  but  look  into  the  fire,  and  listen 
to  Winnington's  voice.  She  had  changed  while  up- 
stairs into  a  white  dress,  and  the  brilliance  of  her  hair, 
and  wide,  absent  eyes  above  the  delicate  folds  of  white, 
seemed  to  burn  in  Winnington's  consciousness  as  he 
read.  Presently  however,  Lady  Tonbridge  looking  up, 
was  startled  to  see  that  the  girl  had  imperceptibl}^  fallen 
asleep.  The  childish  sadness  and  sweetness  of  the  face 
in  its  utter  repose  seemed  to  present  another  Delia,  witli 
another  history.  Madeleine  hoped  that  Winnington 
had  not  observed  the  girl's  sleep ;  and  he  certainly  gave 


278  Delia  Blanchflower 

no  sign  of  it.  He  went  on  reading;  and  presently  his 
companion,  noticing  the  clock,  rose  very  quietly,  and 
went  out  to  give  a  letter  to  the  parlour-maid  for  post. 

As  she  entered  the  room  again,  however,  she  saw  that 
Winnington  had  laid  down  his  book.  His  eyes  were  now 
on  Delia  —  his  lips  parted.  All  the  weather-beaten 
countenance  of  the  man,  its  deep  lines  graven  by  strenu- 
ous living,  glowed  as  from  an  inward  light  —  mar- 
vellously intense  and  pure.  Madeleine's  pulse  leapt. 
She  had  her  answer  to  her  speculations  of  the  after- 
noon. 

Meanwhile  through  Delia's  sleeping  mind  there  swept 
scenes  and  images  of  fear.  She  grew  restless,  and  as 
Lady  Tonbridge  slipped  again  into  her  chair  by  the 
fire,  the  girl  woke  suddenly  with  a  long  quivering  sigh, 
a  sound  of  pain,  which  provoked  a  quick  movement  of 
alami  In  Winnington. 

But  she  ver}'  soon  recovered  her  usual  manner;  and 
Winnington  said  good-night.  He  went  away  carrying 
his  anxieties  with  him  through  the  dark,  carrying  also 
a  tumult  of  soul  that  would  not  be  stilled.  Whither  was 
he  drifting?  Of  late  he  had  felt  sure  of  himself  again. 
Her  best  friend  and  guide  —  it  was  that  he  was  rapidly 
becoming  —  with  that,  day  by  day,  he  bade  himself  be 
content.  And  now,  once  more,  self-control  was  uprooted 
and  tottering.  It  was  the  touch  of  this  new  softness, 
this  note  of  Innocent  appeal,  even  of  bewildered  dis- 
tress. In  her,  which  was  kindling  all  his  manhood,  and 
breaking  down  his  determination. 

He  raged  at  the  thought  of  Lathrop.  As  to  any 
danger  of  a  love-affair,  like  Lady  Tonbridge,  he  scouted 
the  notion.  It  would  be  an  Insult  to  Delia  to  suppose 
such  a  thing.  But  It  was  simply  intolerable  in  his  eyes 
that  she  should  have  any   dealings  with  the  fellow  — 


Delia  Blanchflower  279 

that  he  should  have  the  audacity  to  call  at  her  house, 
to  put  her  undei'  an  obligation. 

And  he  was  persuaded  there  was  more  than  appeared 
in  it ;  more  than  Delia's  devices  for  getting  money,  where- 
with to  feed  the  League  of  Revolt.  She  was  clearly 
anxious,  afraid.  Some  shadow  was  brooding  over  her, 
some  terror  that  she  could  not  disclose :  —  of  that  Win- 
nlngton  was  certain.  And  this  man,  whom  she  had  al- 
ready accepted  as  her  colleague  in  a  public  campaign, 
was  evidently  In  the  secret ;  might  be  even  the  cause  of 
her  fears. 

He  began  hotly  to  con  the  terms  of  his  letter  to  La- 
throp ;  and  then  had  to  pull  himself  up,  remembering 
unwillingly  what  he  had  promised  Delia. 


Chapter  XV 

'  '  I  \0  you  know  anything  more?  "  ' 

-*— ^  The  voice  was  Delia's ;  and  the  man  who  had 
just  met  her  in  the  shelter  of  the  wooded  walk  which 
ran  along  the  crest  of  the  hill  above  the  Maumsey  valley, 
was  instantly  aware  of  the  agitation  of  the  speaker. 

"  Nothing  —  precise.  As  I  told  you  last  week  —  you 
needn't  be  afraid  of  anything  immediate.  But  my  Lon- 
don informants  assure  me  that  elaborate  preparations 
are  certainly  going  on  for  some  great  cowp  as  soon  as 
Parliament  meets  —  against  Sir  Wilfrid.  The  police 
are  uneasy,  though  puzzled.  They  have  warned  Daunt, 
and  Sir  Wilfrid  is  guarded." 

"  Then  of  course  our  people  won't  attempt  it !  It 
would  be  far  too  dangerous." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure !  You  and  I  know  Miss  Marvell. 
If  she  means  to  burn  Monk  Lawrence,  she'll  achieve  it, 
whatever  the  police  may  do." 

The  man  and  the  girl  walked  on  in  silence.  The 
January  afternoons  were  lengthening  a  little,  and  even 
under  the  shadow  of  the  wood  Lathrop  could  see  with 
sufficient  plainness  Delia's  pale  beauty  —  strangely  worn 
and  dimmed  as  it  seemed  to  him.  His  mind  revolted. 
Couldn't  the  jealous  gods  spare  even  this  physical  per- 
fection.'' Wliat  on  earth  had  been  happening  to  her.'' 
He  supposed  a  Christian  would  call  the  face  "spiritual- 
ised." If  so,  the  Christian  —  in  his  opinion  —  would 
be  a  human  ass. 

*'  I  have  written  several  times  to  Miss  Marvell  —  very 
280 


Delia  Blanchflower  281 

strongly,"  said  Delia  at  last.  "  I  thought  you  ought  to 
know  that.     But  I  have  had  no  reply." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  —  instead  of  writing?  " 

"  It  has  been  impossible.  My  maid  has  been  so  ter- 
ribly ill." 

Lathrop  expressed  his  sympathy.  Delia  received 
it  with  coldness  and  a  slight  frown.      She  hurried  on  — 

"  I've  written  again  —  but  I  haven't  sent  it.  Per- 
haps I  oughtn't  to  have  written  by  post." 

"  Better  not.  Shall  I  be  your  messenger?  Miss 
Marvell  doesn't  like  me  —  but  that  don't  matter." 

"  Oh,  no,  thank  you."  The  voice  was  hastily  em- 
phatic; so  that  his  vanity  winced.  "  There  are  several 
members  of  the  League  in  the  village.  I  shall  send  one 
of  them." 

He  smiled  —  rather  maliciousl}'. 

"  Are  you  going  to  tackle  Miss  Andrews  herself?  " 

"  You're  still  —  quite  certain  —  that  she's  con- 
cerned? " 

"  Quite  certain.  Since  you  and  I  met  —  a  fortnight 
ago  isn't  it?  —  I  have  seen  her  several  times,  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  house  —  after  dark.  She  has  no 
idea,  of  course,  that  I  have  been  prowling  round." 

"What  have  3'ou  seen?  —  what  can  she  be  doing?" 
asked  Delia.  "  Of  course  I  remember  what  you  told  me 
—  the  other  day." 

Lathrop's  belief  was  that  a  close  watch  was  now  be- 
ing kept  on  Daunt  —  on  his  goings  and  comings  —  with 
a  view  perhaps  to  beguiling  him  away,  and  then  getting 
into  the  house. 

"  But  he  has  lately  got  a  niece  to  stay  with  him,  and 
help  look  after  the  children,  and  the  house.  His  sister 
who  is  married  in  London,  offered  to  send  her  down  for 
six  months.     He  was  rather  surprised,  for  he  had  quite 


282  Delia  Blanchflower 

lost  sight  of  liis  sister ;  but  he  tells  me  it's  a  great  relief 
to  his  mind. 

*'  So  jou  talk  to  him?  " 

"  Certainly.  Oh,  he  knows  all  about  me  —  but  he 
knows  too  that  I'm  on  the  side  of  the  house !  He  thinks 
I'm  a  queer  chap  —  but  he  can  trust  me  —  in  that  busi- 
ness. And  by  the  way,  Miss  Blanchflower,  perhaps  I 
ought  to  let  you  understand  that  I'm  an  artist  and  a 
writer,  before  I'm  a  Suffragist,  and  if  I  come  across  Miss 
Marvcll  —  engaged  in  what  you  and  I  have  been  talking 
of  —  I  shall  behave  just  like  any  other  member  of  the 
public,  and  act  for  tlie  police.  I  don't  want  to  sail  — 
with  you  —  under  any  false  pretences  !  " 

"  I  know,"  said  Delia,  quietly.  "  You  came  to  warn 
me  —  and  we  are  acting  together.  I  understand  per- 
fectly. You  —  you've  promised  however  " —  she  could 
not  keep  her  voice  quite  normal  — "  that  you'd  let  me 
know  —  that  you'd  give  me  notice  before  you  took  any 
step." 

Lathrop  nodded.  "  If  there's  time  —  I  promise. 
But  if  Daunt  or  I  come  upon  Miss  Marvell  —  or  any  of 
her  minions  —  torch  in  hand  —  there  would  not  be  time. 
Though,  of  course,  if  I  could  help  her  escape,  consist- 
ently with  saving  the  house  —  for  your  sake  —  I  should 
do  so.     I  am  sure  you  believe  that.''" 

Delia  made  no  audible  reply,  but  he  took  her  silence 
for  consent. 

"  And  now  " —  he  resumed  — "  I  ought  to  be  informed 
without  delay,  whether  your  messenger  finds  Miss  Mar- 
vell and  how  she  receives  your  letter." 

"  I  will  let  you  know  at  once." 

"  A  telegram  brings  me  here  ■ —  this  same  spot.  But 
you  won't  wire  from  the  village.''  " 

"  Oh  no,  from  Latchford." 


Delia  Blanchfiower  283 

*'  Well,  then,  that's  settled.  Regard  me,  please,  as 
your  henchman.  Well !  —  have  you  read  any  Madame 
de  Noailles  ?  " 

He  fancied  he  saw  a  slight  impatient  movement. 

"  Not  yet,  I'm  afraid.  I've  been  living  in  a  sick 
room." 

Again  he  expressed  polite  sympathy,  while  his 
thoughts  repeated — "  What  waste ! — what  absurdity !  " 

"  She  might  distract  3'ou  —  especially  in  these  winter 
days.  Her  verse  is  the  very  quintessence  of  summer  — 
of  hot  gardens  and  their  scents  —  of  roses  —  and  June 
twilights.  It  takes  one  out  of  this  leafless  north."  He 
stretched  a  hand  to  the  landscape. 

And  suddenh',  while  his  heavy  face  kindled,  he  began 
to  recite.  His  French  was  immaculate  —  even  to  a  sen- 
sitive and  well-trained  ear;  and  his  voice,  which  in  speak- 
ing was  disagreeable,  took  in  reciting  deep  and  beautiful 
notes,  which  easily  communicated  to  a  listener  the  thrill, 
the  passion,  of  sensuous  pleasure,  which  certain  poetry 
produced  in  himself. 

But  it  communicated  no  such  thrill  to  Delia.  She 
was  only  irritably  conscious  of  the  uncouthness  of  his 
large  cadaverous  face,  and  straggling  fair  hair ;  of  his 
ragged  ulster,  his  loosened  tie,  and  all  the  other  untidy 
details  of  his  dress.  "  And  I  shall  have  to  go  on  meet- 
ing him !  "  she  thought,  with  repulsion.  "  And  at  the 
end  of  this  walk  (the  gate  was  in  sight)  I  shall  have  to 
shake  hands  with  him  —  and  he'll  hold  my  hand." 

She  loathed  tlie  thought  of  it;  but  she  knew  very  well 
that  she  was  under  coercion  —  for  Gertinide's  sake. 
The  recollection  of  WInnington  —  away  in  Latchford 
on  county  business  — smote  her  sharply.  But  how  could 
she  help  it,''  She  must — 7nust  keep  in  touch  with  this 
man  —  who  had  Gertrude  in  his  power. 


284  Delia  Blanchflower 

While  these  thoughts  were  running  through  her  mind, 
he  stopped  his  recitation  abruptly. 

"  Am  I  to  help  you  any  more  —  with  the  jewels?  " 

Delia  started.  Lathrop  was  smiling  at  her,  and  she 
resented  the  smile.  She  had  forgotten.  But  there  was 
no  help  for  it.  She  must  have  more  money.  It  might 
be,  in  the  last  resort,  the  means  of  bargaining  with  Ger- 
trude.    And  how  could  she  ask  Mark  Winnington ! 

So  she  hurriedly  thanked  him,  naming  a  tiara  and  two 
pendants,  that  she  thought  must  be  valuable. 

"  All  right,"  said  Lathrop,  taking  out  a  note-book 
from  his  breast  pocket,  and  looking  at  certain  entries 
he  had  made  on  the  occasion  of  his  visit  to  Maumsey. 
"  I  remember  —  worth  a  couple  of  thousand  at  least. 
When  shall  I  have  them  ?  " 

"  I  will  send  them  registered  —  to-morrow  —  from 
Latchford." 

"  Tres  bien!  I  will  do  m}^  best.  You  know  Mr. 
Winnington  has  offered  me  a  commission  ?  "  His  eyes 
laughed. 

Delia  turned  upon  him. 

"And  3'ou  ought  to  accept  it,  Mr.  Lathrop!  It 
Avould  be  kinder  to  all  of  us." 

She  spoke  with  spirit  and  dignity.  But  he  laughed 
again  and  shook  his  head. 

"  My  reward,  you  see,  is  just  not  to  be  paid.  My 
fee  is  your  presence  —  in  this  wood  —  your  little  word 
of  thanks  —  and  the  hand  you  give  me  —  on  the  bar- 
gain ! " 

The}^  had  reached  the  gate,  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 
Delia  had  flushed  violently,  but  she  yielded  her  own. 
He  pressed  it  lingeringly,  as  she  had  foreseen,  then 
released  it  and  opened  the  gate  for  her. 

"  Good-bye  then.     A  word  commands  me  —  when  you 


Delia  Blanchflower  285 

wish.  We  keep  watch  —  and  each  informs  the  other  — 
barring  accidents.      That  is,  I  think,  the  bargain." 

She  murmured  assent,  and  they  parted.  Half  way 
back  towards  his  own  cottage,  Lathrop  paused  at  a 
spot  where  the  trees  were  thin,  and  the  slopes  of  the 
valley  below  could  be  clearly  seen.  He  could  still  make 
out  her  figure  nearing  the  first  houses  of  the  village. 

"  I  think  she  hates  me.  Never  mind !  I  command 
her,  and  meet  me  she  must  —  when  I  please  to  summon 
her.  There  is  some  sweetness  in  that  —  and  in  teasing 
the  stupid  fellow  who  no  doubt  will  own  her  some 
day." 

And  he  thought  exultantly  of  Winnington's  letter  to 
him,  and  his  own  insolent  reply.  It  had  been  a  perfectly 
civil  letter  —  and  a  perfectly  proper  thing  for  a 
guardian  to  do.     But  —  for  the  moment  — 

"  I  have  the  whip  hand  —  and  it  amuses  me  to  keep 
it, —  Now  then  for  Blaydes  !  " 

For  there,  in  the  doorway  of  the  cottage,  stood  the 
young  journalist,  waiting  and  smoking.  He  was  evi- 
dently in  good  humour. 

"Well?     She  came?" 

"  Of  course  she  came.      But  it  doesn't  matter  to  you." 

"  Oh,  doesn't  it !  I  suppose  she  wants  you  to  sell 
something  more  for  her?  " 

Latlirop  did  not  reply.  Concerning  Gertrude  Mar- 
vell,  he  had  not  breathed  a  word  to  Blaydes. 

They  entered  the  hut  together,  and  Lathrop  re- 
kindled the  fire.  The  two  men  sat  over  it  smoking. 
Blaydes  plied  his  companion  with  eager  questions,  to 
which  Lathrop  returned  the  scantiest  answers.  At  last 
he  said  with  a  sarcastic  look  — 

"  I  was  offered  four  hundred  pounds  this  afternoon  — 
and  refused  it." 


286  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  The  deuce  you  did ! "  cried  Blaydes,  fiercely. 
"  What  about  my  debt  —  and  what  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Ten  per  cent,  commission,"  said  Lathrop,  drawing 
quietly  at  his  cigar.  "  Sales  up  to  two  thou.,  a  fort- 
night ago.  I  shall  get  the  same  money  —  or  more  —  for 
the  next  batch." 

"  Well,  that's  all  right !  No  need  to  get  it  out  of 
the  lady,  if  j^ou're  particular.  Get  it  out  of  the  other 
side.     Any  fool  could  manage  that." 

"  I  shall  not  get  a  farthing  out  of  the  other  side.  I 
shall  not  make  a  doit  out  of  the  whole  transaction ! " 

"  Then  you're  a  d d  fool,"  said  Blaydes,  in  a  pas- 
sion.    "  And  a  dishonest  fool  besides  !  " 

"  Easy,  please !  What  hold  should  I  have  on  this 
girl  —  this  splendid  creature  —  if  I  were  merely  to  make 
money  out  of  her?  As  it  is,  she's  obliged  to  me  —  she 
treats  me  like  a  gentleman,  I  thought  you  had  matri- 
monial ideas." 

"  I  don't  believe  you've  got  the  ghost  of  a  chance !  " 
grumbled  Blaydes,  his  mind  smarting  under  the  thought 
of  the  lost  four  hundred  pounds,  out  of  which  his  debt 
might  have  been  paid. 

"  Nor  do  I,"  said  Lathrop,  coolly.  "  But  I  choose 
to  keep  on  equal  terms  with  her.  You  can  sell  me  up 
when  you  like." 

He  lounged  to  the  window,  and  threw  it  open.  The 
January  day  was  closing,  not  in  any  glory  of  sunset, 
but  with  interwoven  greys  and  pearls,  and  delicate  yel- 
low lights  slipping  through  the  clouds. 

"  I  shall  always  have  this  " —  he  said  to  himself, 
passionately,  as  he  drank  in  the  air  and  the  beauty — 
"  whatever  happens." 

Recollection  brought  back  to  him  Delia's  proud, 
virginal  youth,  and  her  springing  step  as  she  walked 


Delia  Blanchflower  287 

beside  him  through  the  wood.  His  mind  wavered  again 
between  triumph  and  self-disgust.  His  muddy  past 
returned  upon  him,  mingled,  as  always,  with  that  in- 
vincible respect  for  her,  and  belief  in  something  high 
and  unstained  in  the  depths  of  his  own  nature,  to  which 
his  weakened  and  corrupt  will  was  yet  unable  to  give 
any  effect. 

"  What  I  have  done  Is  not  '  me  '  " —  he  thought. 
"  At  any  rate  not  all '  me.'  I  am  better  than  it.  I  sus- 
pect Winnington  has  told  her  something  —  measuring 
it  chastely  out.     All  the  same  —  I  shall  see  her  again." 

Meanwhile  Delia  was  descending  the  hill  pursued  by 
doubts  and  terrors.  The  day  was  now  darkening  fast, 
and  heavy  snow-clouds  were  coming  down  over  the 
valley.  The  wind  had  dropped,  but  the  heavy  air  was 
bitter-cold  and  lifeless,  as  though  the  earth  waited 
sadly  for  the  silencing  and  muffling  of  the  snow. 

And  in  Delia's  heart  there  was  a  like  dumb  ex- 
pectancy of  change.  The  old  enthusiasms,  and  ideals 
and  causes,  seemed  for  the  moment  to  lie  veiled  and 
frozen  within  her.  Only  two  figures  emerged  sharply 
in  the  landscape  of  thought  —  Gertrude  —  and  Win- 
nington. 

Since  that  day,  the  day  before  Weston's  operation, 
when  Paul  Lathrop  had  brought  her  evidence  —  col- 
lected partly  from  small  incidents  and  observations  on 
the  spot,  partly  from  information  supplied  him  by 
friends  in  London  —  which  had  sharpened  all  her  own 
suspicions  into  certainties,  she  had  never  known  an 
hour  free  from  fear.  Her  letters  had  remained  wholly 
unanswered.  She  did  not  even  know  where  Gertrude 
was ;  though  it  seemed  to  her  that  letters  addressed 
to  the  head  office  of  the  League  of  Revolt  must  have 


288  Delia  Blanchflower 

been  forwarded.  No !  Gertrude  was  really  planning 
this  hateful  thing;  the  destruction  of  this  beautiful  and 
historic  house,  with,  all  its  memories  and  its  treasures, 
in  order  to  punish  a  Cabinet  Minister  for  his  opposition 
to  Woman  Suffrage,  and  so  terrorise  others.  Moreover 
it  meant  the  risking  of  human  life  —  Daunt  —  his 
children,  complete  indifference  also  to  Delia's  feelings, 
Delia's  pain. 

What  was  she  to  do  ?  Betray  her  friend .''  —  go  to 
Winnington  for  help-f^  But  he  was  a  magistrate.  If 
such  a  plot  were  really  on  foot  —  and  Lathrop  was  him- 
self convinced  that  petroleum  and  explosives  were  al- 
ready stored  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
house  —  Winnington  could  only  treat  such  a  thing  as 
a  public  servant,  as  a  guardian  of  the  law.  Any  ap- 
peal to  him  to  let  private  interests  —  even  her  inter- 
ests —  interfere,  would,  she  felt  certain,  be  entirely 
fruitless.  Once  go  to  him,  the  police  must  be  informed 
—  it  would  be  his  clear  duty ;  and  if  such  proofs  of 
the  plot  existed  as  Lathrop  believed,  Gertrude  would  be 
arrested,  and  her  accomplices.  Including  Delia  her- 
self.? 

That  possibility,  instead  of  frightening  her,  gave  the 
girl  some  momentary  comfort.  For  that  might  perhaps 
secure  Winnington's  silence.'^ 

But  no !  —  her  common  sense  dismissed  the  notion. 
Winnington  weuld  discover  at  once  that  she  had  had  no 
connection  whatever  with  the  business.  Lathrop's  evi- 
dence alone  would  be  enough.  And  that  being  so,  her 
confession  would  simply  hand  Gertrude  over  to  Win- 
nington's conscience.  And  Mark  Winnington's  con- 
science was  a  thing  to  fear. 

And  yet  the  yearning  to  go  to  him  —  like  the  yearn- 
ing of  an  unhappy  child  —  was  so  strong. 


Delia  Blanchflower  289 

Traitor  !  —  yes,  traitor!  —  double-dyed. 

And  pausing  just  outside  the  village,  at  a  field  gate, 
Delia  leant  over  it,  gazing  into  the  lowering  sky,  and 
piteoush'  crying  to  some  power  beyond  —  some  God, 
"  if  any  Zeus  there  be,"  on  whom  the  heart  in  its  trou- 
ble might  throw  itself. 

Her  thought  ran  backwards  and  forwards  over  the 
past  months  and  years.  The  burning  moments  of  re- 
volt through  which  she  had  lived  —  the  meetings  of  the 
League  with  their  multitudes  of  faces,  strained,  fierce 
faces,  alive,  many  of  them,  Mnth  hatreds  new  to  English 
life,  new  perhaps  to  civilised  history, —  and  the  inter- 
mittent gusts  of  pitj'  and  fury  which  had  swept  through 
her  own  young  ignorance  as  she  listened,  making  a 
hideous  thing  of  the  future  and  of  human  fate: — she 
lived  through  them  all  again.  Individual  personalities 
recurred  to  her,  the  wild  looks  of  delicate,  frenzied 
women,  who  had  lost  health,  employment,  and  the  love 
of  friends  —  suffered  in  body,  mind  and  estate  for  this 
"  cause  "  to  which  she  too  had  vowed  herself.  Was  she 
alone  to  desert,  to  fall  —  both  the  cause  and  her  friend, 
who  had  taught  her  everything? 

"  It's  not  my  will  —  not  my  will  —  that  shrinks  " — ■ 
she  moaned  to  herself.  "  If  I  believed  —  if  I  still  be- 
lieved !  " 

But  why  was  the  fire  gone  out  of  the  old  faiths,  the 
savour  from  the  old  hopes?  Was  she  less  moved  by 
the  sufferings,  the  toils,  the  weakness  of  her  sex?  She 
could  remember  nights  of  weeping  over  the  wrongs  of 
women,  after  an  impassioned  evening  with  Gertrude. 
And  now  —  had  the  heart  of  flesh  become  a  heart  of 
stone?  Was  she  no  longer  worthy  of  the  great  cru- 
sade, the  vast  upheaval? 

She  could  not  tell.     She  only  knew  that  the  glamour 


290  Delia  Blanchflower 

of  It  all  was  gone  —  that  there  were  many  hours  when 
the  Movement  lay  like  lead  upon  her  life.  Was  it 
simply  that  her  intelligence  had  revolted,  that  she  had 
come  to  see  the  folly,  the  sheer,  ludicrous  folly  of  a 
"  physical  force  "  policy  which  opposed  the  pin-pricks 
of  women  to  the  strength  of  men?  Or  was  it  something 
else  —  something  far  more  compelling  —  more  con- 
vincing —  more  humiliating ! 

"I've  just  fallen  in  love!  —  fallen  in  love!" — the 
words  repeated  themselves  brazenly,  desperately,  in  her 
mind: — "and  I  can't  think  for  myself  —  judge  for 
myself  any  longer !     It's  abominable  —  but  it's  true !  " 

The  very  thought  of  Winnington's  voice  and  look 
made  her  tremble  as  she  walked.  Eternal  weakness  of 
the  eternal  woman!  She  scorned  herself,  yet  a  be- 
wildering joy  sang  through  her  senses. 

Nevertheless  she  held  it  at  bay.  She  had  her  prom- 
ised word  —  her  honour  —  to  think  of.  Gertrude  still 
expected  her  in  London  —  on  the  scene  of  action. 

"  And  I  shall  go,"  she  said  to  herself  with  resolute 
inconsistency,  "  /  sJiall  go!  " 

What  an  angel  Mark  Winnington  had  been  to  her, 
this  last  fortnight!  She  recalled  the  day  of  Weston's 
operation,  and  all  the  long  days  since.  The  poor  gen- 
tle creature  had  suffered  terribly ;  death  had  been  just 
held  off,  from  hour  to  hour ;  and  was  only  now  with- 
drawing. And  Delia,  sitting  by  the  bed,  or  stealing 
with  hushed  foot  about  the  house,  was  not  only  torn 
by  pity  for  the  living  sufferer,  she  was  haunted  again 
by  all  the  memories  of  her  father's  dying  struggle  — 
bitter  and  miserable  days !  And  with  what  tenderness, 
what  strength,  what  infinite  delicacy  of  thought  and 
care,  had  she  been  upheld  through  it  all !  Her  heart 
melted  within  her.     "  There  are  such  men  in  the  world 


Delia  Blanchflower  291 

—  there  are !  —  and  a  year  ago  I  should  have  simply 
despised  an^'one  who  told  me  so !  " 

Yet  after  these  weeks  of  deepening  experience,  and 
sacred  feeling,  in  which  she  had  come  to  love  Mark 
Winnington  with  all  the  strength  of  her  young  heart, 
and  to  realise  that  she  loved  him,  the  first  use  that  she 
was  making  of  a  free  hour  was  to  go,  unknown  to  him  — 
for  he  was  away  on  county  business  at  Wanchester  — 
and  meet  Paul  Lathrop ! 

"  But  he  would  understand,"  she  said  to  herself, 
drearily,  as  she  moved  on  again.  "  If  he  knew,  he 
would  understand." 

Now  she  must  hurry  on.  She  turned  into  the  broad 
High  Street  of  the  village,  observed  by  many  people, 
and  half  way  down,  she  stopped  at  a  door  on  which 
was  a  brass  plate,  "  Miss  Toogood,  Dressmaker." 

The  lame  woman  greeted  her  with  delight,  and  there 
in  the  back  parlour  of  the  little  shop  she  found  them 
gathered, —  Kitty  Foster,  the  science-mistress,  Miss 
Jackson,  and  jNIiss  Toogood, —  the  three  "  Daughters," 
who  were  now  coldly  looked  on  in  the  village,  and 
found  pleasure  chiefly  in  each  other's  society.  Marion 
Andrews  was  not  there.  Delia  indeed  fancied  she  had 
seen  her  in  the  dusk,  walking  in  a  side  lane,  that  led 
into  the  Monk  Lawrence  road,  with  another  girl,  whom 
Delia  did  not  know. 

It  was  a  relief,  however,  not  to  find  her  —  for  the 
moment.  The  faces  of  the  three  women  in  the  back 
parlour,  were  all  strained  and  nervous ;  they  spoke  low, 
and  they  gathered  round  Delia  with  an  eagerness  which 
betrayed  their  own  sense  of  isolation  —  of  being  left 
leaderless. 

"  You  will  be  going  up  soon,  won't  you?  "  whispered 


292  Delia  Blanchflower 

Miss  Toogood,  as  she  stroked  the  sleeve  of  Delia's 
jacket.  "  The  Tocsin  says  there'll  be  great  doings 
next  week  —  the  day  Parliament  meets." 

"  I've  got  my  orders !  " —  said  Kitty  Foster,  tossing 
her  red  hair  m3'steriously.  "  Father  won't  keep  me 
down  here  any  longer.  I've  made  arrangements  to  go 
up  to-morrow  and  lodge  with  a  cousin  in  Battersea. 
She's  as  deep  in  it  as  I  am." 

"  And  I'm  hoping  they'll  find  room  for  me  in  the 
League  office,"  said  the  science-mistress.  "  I  can't 
stand  this  life  here  much  longer.  My  Governors  are 
always  showing  me  they  think  us  all  criminals,  and 
they'll  find  an  excuse  for  getting  rid  of  me  whenever 
they  can.  I  daren't  even  put  up  the  '  Daughters  '  col- 
ours in  my  room  now." 

Her  hollow,  anxious  eyes,  with  the  fanatical  light 
in  them  clung  to  Delia  —  to  the  girl's  noble  head,  and 
the  young  face  flushed  with  the  winter  wind. 

"But  we  shall  get  it  this  session,  shan't  we?"  said 
Miss  Toogood  eagerly,  still  stroking  Deha's  fur.  "  The 
Government  will  give  in  —  they  must  give  in." 

And  she  began  to  talk  with  hushed  enthusiasm  of 
the  last  month's  tale  of  outrages  —  houses  burnt,  win- 
dows broken,  Downing  Street  attacked,  red  pepper 
thrown  over  a  Minister,  ballot-boxes  spoiled 

Suddenly  it  all  seemed  to  Delia  so  absurd  —  so  pa- 
thetic — 

"  /  don't  think  we  shall  get  the  Bill !  "  she  said,  som- 
brely.    "  We  shall  be  tricked  again." 

"  Dear,  dear ! "  said  Miss  Toogood,  helplessly. 
"  Then  we  shall  have  to  go  on.  It's  war.  We  can't 
stop." 

And  as  she  stood  there,  sadly  contemplating  the 
"war,"  in  which,  poor  soul,  she  had  never  yet  joined, 


Delia  Blanchflower  293 

except  by  sympathy,  a  little  bill-distributing  and  a 
modest  subscription,  she  seemed  to  carry  on  her  shoul- 
ders the  whole  burden  of  the  "  Movement  " —  herself, 
the  little  lame  dressmaker,  on  the  one  side  —  and  a 
truculent  British  Empire  on  the  other. 

"  We'll  make  them  smart  anyway ! "  cried  Kitty 
Foster.     "  See  if  we  don't !  " 

Delia  hurriedly  opened  her  business.  Would  one  of 
them  take  a  letter  for  her  to  London  —  an  important 
letter  to  Miss  Marvell  that  she  didn't  want  to  trust  to 
the  post.  Whoever  took  it  must  go  to  the  League 
office  and  find  out  where  Miss  Marvell  was,  and  deliver 
it  —  personally.  She  couldn't  go  herself  —  till  after 
the  doctors'  consultation,  which  was  to  be  held  on  Mon- 
day —  if  then. 

Miss  Jackson  at  once  volunteered.  Her  face  light- 
ened eagerly. 

"  It's  Saturday.  I  shall  be  free.  And  then  I  shall 
see  for  myself  —  at  the  office  —  if  they  can  give  me  any- 
thing to  do.     When  they  write,  they  seem  to  put  me  off." 

Delia  gave  her  the  letter,  and  stayed  talking  with 
them  a  little.  They,  it  was  evident,  knew  nothing  of 
the  anxiety  which  possessed  her.  And  as  to  their 
hopes  and  expectations  —  why  was  it  they  now  seemed 
to  her  so  foolish  and  so  ignorant?  She  had  shared 
them  all,  such  a  little  while  before. 

And  meanwhile  they  made  much  of  her.  They  tried 
to  keep  her  with  them  in  the  little  stuffy  parlour,  with 
its  books  which  had  belonged  to  Miss  Toogood's  father, 
and  the  engraving  of  Winchester  cathedral,  and  the 
portrait  of  Mr.  Keble.  That  "Miss  Blanchflower" 
was  with  them,  seemed  to  reflect  a  glory  on  their  little 
despised  coterie.  Thc}^  admired  her  and  listened  to 
her,  loath  to  let  her  go. 


294  Delia  Blanchflower 

But  at  last  Delia  said  Good-bye,  and  stepped  out 
again  into  the  lights  of  the  village  street.  As  she 
walked  rapidly  towards  Maumsey,  and  the  village  houses 
thinned  and  fell  away,  she  suddenly  noticed  a  dark  fig- 
ure in  front  of  her.  It  was  Marion  Andrews.  Delia 
ran  to  overtake  her. 

Marion  stopped  uncertainly  when  she  heard  herself 
called.     Delia,  breathless,  laid  a  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  !  " 

"  Yes ! "  The  girl  stood  quiet.  It  was  too  dark 
now  to  see  her  face. 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  3^ou  —  that  there  are  suspicions  — 
about  Monk  Lawrence.  You  are  being  watched.  I 
want  you  to  promise  to  give  it  up !  " 

There  was  no  one  on  the  road,  above  which  some 
frosty  stars  had  begun  to  come  out.  Marion  Andrews 
moved  on  slowly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Miss  Blanchflower." 

"  Don't,  please,  try  to  deceive  me !  "  cried  Delia,  with 
low-voiced  urgency.  "  You  have  been  seen  at  night  — 
following  Daunt  about  —  examining  the  doors  and  win- 
dows. The  person  who  suspects  won't  betray  us.  I've 
seen  to  that.  But  you  must  give  it  up  —  you  must! 
I  have  written  to  Miss  Marvell." 

Marion  Andrews  laughed, —  a  sound  of  defiance. 

"  All  right.  I  don't  take  my  orders  from  any  one 
but  her.  But  you  are  mistaken,  Miss  Blanchflower, 
quite  mistaken.     Good-night." 

And  turning  quickly  to  the  left,  she  entered  a  field 
path  leading  to  her  brother's  house,  and  was  imme- 
diately out  of  sight. 

Delia  went  on,  smarting  and  bewildered.  How  clear 
it  was  that  she  was  no  longer  trusted  —  no  longer  in 
the  inner  circle  —  and  that  Gertrude  herself  had  given 


Delia  Blanchflower  295 

the  cue !  The  silent  and  stubborn  Marion  Andrews 
was  of  a  very  different  type  from  the  three  excitable 
or  helpless  women  gathered  in  Miss  Toogood's  parlour. 
She  had  ability,  passion,  and  the  power  to  hold  her 
tongue.  Her  connection  with  Gertrude  Marvell  had 
begun,  in  London,  at  the  "  Daughters  "  office,  as  Delia 
now  knew,  long  before  her  own  appearance  at  Maumsey. 
When  Gertrude  came  to  the  Abbey,  she  and  this  strange, 
determined  woman  were  already  well  acquainted,  though 
Delia  herself  had  not  been  aware  of  it  till  quite  lately. 
"  I  have  been  a  child  in  their  hands  !  —  they  have  never 
trusted  me !  "     Heart  and  vanity  were  equally  wounded. 

As  she  neared  the  Maumsey  gate,  suddenly  a  sound 
—  a  voice  —  a  tall  figure  in  the  twilight. 

"  Ah,  there  you  are !  "  said  Winnington.  "  Lady 
Tonbridge  sent  me  to  look  for  you." 

"  Aren't  you  back  very  early  ?  "  Delia  attempted  her 
usual  voice.  But  the  man  who  joined  her  at  once  de- 
tected the  note  of  effort,  of  tired  pre-occupation. 

"  Yes  —  our  business  collapsed.  Our  clerk's  too 
good  —  leaves  us  nothing  to  do.  So  I've  been  having 
a  talk  with  Lady  Tonbridge." 

Delia  was  startled ;  not  by  the  words,  but  by  the 
manner  of  them.  While  she  seemed  to  Winnington  to 
be  thinking  of  something  other  than  the  moment  — 
the  actual  moment,  her  impression  was  the  precise  op- 
posite, as  of  a  sharp,  intense  consciousness  of  the  mo- 
ment in  him,  which  presently  communicated  its  own 
emotion  to  her. 

They  walked  up  the  drive  together. 

"  At  last  I  have  got  a  horse  for  you,"  said  Win- 
nington, after  a  pause.  "  Shall  I  bring  it  to-morrow? 
Weston  is  going  on  so  well  to-night,  France  tells  me, 
that  he  may  be  able  to  say  '  out  of  danger  '  to-morrow. 


296  Delia  Blanchflower 

If  so,  let  me  take  jou  far  afield,  into  the  Forest.  We 
might  have  a  jolly  run." 

Delia  hesitated.  It  was  very  good  of  him.  But  she 
was  out  of  practice.      She  hadn't  ridden  for  a  long  time. 

Winnington  laughed  aloud.  He  told  —  deliberately 
—  a  tale  of  a  3'oung  lad}"  on  a  black  mare,  whom  no 
one  else  could  ride  —  of  a  Valkyrie  —  a  Bininhilde  — 
who  had  exchanged  a  Tyrolese  hotel  for  a  forest  lodge, 
and  ranged  the  wide  world  alone  — 

"  Oh  !  " —  cried  Delia,  "  where  did  you  hear  that  ?  " 

He  described  the  talk  of  the  little  Swedish  lady,  and 
that  evening  on  the  heights  when  he  had  first  heard 
her  name. 

"  Next  day  came  the  lawyers'  letter  —  and  yours  — 
both  in  a  bundle." 

"  You'll  agree  —  I  did  all  I  could  —  to  put  you  off !  " 

"  So  I  understood  —  at  once.  You  never  beat  about 
the  bush." 

There  was  a  tender  laughter  in  his  voice.  But  she 
h'ad  not  the  heart  to  spar  with  him.  He  felt  rather 
than  saw  her  drooping.  Alarm  —  anxiety  —  rushed 
upon  him,  mingled  in  a  tempest-driven  mind  with  all 
tliat  Madeleine  Tonbridge,  in  the  Maumsey  drawing- 
room,  had  just  been  saying  to  him.  That  had  been  in- 
deed the  plain  speaking  of  a  friend !  —  attacking  his 
qualms  and  scruples  up  and  down,  denouncing  them 
even ;  asking  him  indignantly,  who  else  could  save  this 
child  —  who  else  could  free  her  from  the  sordid  en- 
tanglement into  which  her  life  had  slipped  —  but  he? 
"  You  —  you  only,  can  do  it !  "  The  words  were  still 
thundering  through  his  blood.  Yet  he  had  not  meant 
to  listen  to  his  old  friend.  He  had  indeed  withstood  her 
firmly.     But  this  sad  and  languid  Delia  began,  again, 


Delia  Blanchflower  297 

to  put  resistance  to  flight  —  to  tempt  —  to  justify  him 

—  driving  him  into  action  that  his  cooler  will  had  just 
refused. 

Suddenly,  as  they  walked  under  the  overshadowing 
trees  of  the  drive,  her  ungloved  hand  hanging  beside 
her,  she  felt  it  taken,  enclosed  in  a  warm  strong  clasp. 
A  thrill,  a  shiver  ran  through  her.  But  she  let  it  stay. 
Neither  spoke.  Only  as  they  neared  the  front  door 
with  the  lamp,  she  softly  withdrew  her  fingers. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  drawing-room,  which  was 
scented  with  early  hyacinths,  and  pleasantly  aglow 
with  fire-light.  Winnington  closed  the  door,  and  they 
stood  facing  each  other.  Delia  wanted  to  cry  out  —  to 
prevent  him  from  speaking  —  but  she  seemed  struck 
dumb. 

He  approached  her. 

"  Delia ! " 

She  looked  at  him  still  helplessly  silent.  She  had 
thrown  off  her  hat  and  furs,  and,  in  her  short  walking- 
dress,  she  looked  singularly  young  and  fragile.  The 
change  which  had  tempered  the  splendid  —  or  insolent 

—  exuberance  of  her  beauty,  which  Lathrop  had  per- 
ceived, had  made  it  in  Winnington's  eyes  infinitely  more 
appealing,  infinitely  more  seductive.  Love  and  fear, 
mingled,  had  "  passed  into  her  face,"  like  the  sculp- 
tor's last  subtle  touches  on  the  clay. 

"  Delia !  "  How  all  life  seemed  to  have  passed  into 
a  name !  "  I'm  not  sure  that  I  ought  to  speak !  I'm 
not  sure  it's  fair.  It  —  it  seems  like  taking  advantage. 
If  you  think  so,  don't  imagine  I  shall  ever  press  it 
again.  I'm  twenty  years  older  than  you  —  I've  had 
my  youth.  I  thought  everything  was  closed  for  me  — 
but  — "     He  paused  a  moment  —  then  his  voice  broke 


298  Delia  Blanchflower 

into  a  low  cry  — "  Dear !  what  have  you  done  to  make 
me  love  you  so?  " 

He  came  nearer.     His  look  spoke  the  rest. 

Delia  retreated. 

"  What  have  I  done?  "  she  said  passionately. 

"  Made  your  life  one  long  worry !  —  ever  since  you 
saw  me.  How  can  you  love  me?  —  you  oughtn't!  — 
you  oughtn't !  " 

He  laughed. 

"  Every  quarrel  we  had  I  loved  you  the  better. 
From  our  very  first  talk  in  this  room  — " 

She  cried  out,  putting  up  her  hands,  as  though  to 
protect  herself  against  the  power  that  breathed  from 
his  face  and  shining  eyes. 

"  Don't  —  don't !  —  I  can't  bear  it." 

His  expression  changed. 

"  Delia ! " 

"  Oh,  I  do  thank  you !  "  she  said,  piteously.  "  I 
would  —  if  I  could.  I  —  I  shall  never  care  for  any 
one  else  —  but  I  can't  —  I  can't." 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  said,  taking  her 
hands,  and  putting  them  to  his  lips  — 

"  Won't  you  explain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  try  —  I  ought  to.  You  see  "—  she  looked 
up  in  anguish  — "  I'm  not  my  own  —  to  give  —  and  I 
—  No,  no,  I  couldn't  make  you  happy !  " 

"You  mean — you're  —  you're  too  deeply  pledged 
to  this  Society?  " 

He  had  dropped  her  hands,  and  stood  looking  at  her, 
as  if  he  would  read  her  through. 

"  I  must  go  up  to  town  next  week,"  she  said  hur- 
riedly. "  I  must  go,  and  I  must  do  what  Gertrude  tells 
me.  Perhaps  —  I  can  protect  —  save  her.  I  don't 
know.     I    daresay    I'm    absurd    to    think    so  —  but    I 


Delia  Blanchflower  299 

might  —  and  I'm  bound.  But  I'm  promised  —  prom- 
ised in  honour  —  and  I  can't  —  get  free.  I  can't  give 
up  Gertrude  —  and  you  —  you  could  never  bear  with 
her  —  or  accept  her.  And  so  —  you  see  —  I  should 
just  make  3'ou  miserable!" 

He  walked  away,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  came 
back.     Then  suddenly  he  took  her  by  the  shoulders. 

"  You  don't  imagine  I  shall  acquiesce  in  this !  "  he 
said  passionately  — "  that  I  shall  endure  to  see  you 
tied  and  chained  by  a  woman  whom  I  know  you  have 
ceased  to  respect,  and  I  believe  you  have  ceased  to 
love !  " 

"  No  !  —  no  !  — "  she  protested. 

"  I  think  it  is  so,"  he  said,  steadily.  "  That  is  how 
I  read  it !  " 

She  gave  a  sob  —  quickly  repressed.  Then  she  vio- 
lently mastered  herself. 

"  If  it  were  true  —  I  can't  marry  you.  I  won't  be 
treacherous  —  nor  a  coward.  And  I  won't  ruin  your 
life.  Dear  Mr.  Mark  —  it's  quite,  quite  impossible. 
Let's  never  talk  of  it  again." 

And  straightening  all  her  slender  body,  she  faced 
him  with  that  foolish  courage,  that  senseless  heroism, 
which  women  have  so  terribly  at  command. 

So  far,  however  from  obliging  her,  he  broke  into  a 
tempest  of  discussion  bringing  to  bear  upon  her  all  the 
arguments  that  love  or  common  sense  dictated.  If  she 
reall}'-  cared  for  him  at  all,  if  slic  even  thought  it  pos- 
sible she  might  care,  was  she  going  to  refuse  all  help 
—  all  advice  —  from  one  to  whom  she  had  grown  so 
dear.?  —  to  whom  everything  she  did  was  now  of  such 
vital,  such  desperate  importance?  He  pleaded  for  him- 
self —  guessing  it  to  be  the  more  hopeful  way. 

"  It's  been  a  lonely  life,  Delia,  till  you  came !  And 
now  j'^ou've  filled  it.  For  God's  sake,  listen  to  me !  Let 
me  protect  you,  dear  —  let  me  advise  you  —  trust  your- 


300  Delia  Blanchflower 

self  to  me.  Do  you  imagine  I  should  want  to  dictate 
to  you  —  or  tyrannise  over  you  ?  Do  you  imagine  I 
don't  sympathise  with  yoxir  faiths,  your  ideals  —  that 
I  don't  feel  for  women  —  what  they  suffer  —  what  they 
endure  —  in  this  hard  world?  Delia,  we'd  work  to- 
gether !  —  it  mightn't  be  always  in  the  same  wa}"-  — 
nor  always  with  the  same  opinions  —  but  we'd  teach  — 
we'd  help  each  other.  Your  own  conscience  —  your 
own  mind  —  I  see  it  plainly  —  have  turned  against  this 
horrible  campaign  —  and  the  woman  who's  led  you  into 
it.  How  she's  treated  you!  Would  any  friend,  any 
real  friend  have  left  you  alone  through  this  Weston 
business  ?  And  you've  given  her  everything  —  your 
house,  your  money,  yourself !  It  makes  me  mad.  I  do 
implore  you  to  break  with  her  —  as  gently,  as  gener- 
ously as  you  like  —  but  free  yourself!  And  then !  " — 
he  drew  a  long  breath  — "  what  a  life  we'd  make  to- 
gether ! "  He  sat  down  beside  her.  Under  the  strong 
overhanging  brows,  his  grey  eyes  still  pleaded  with  her 
• —  silently. 

But  she  was  just  strong  enough,  alas!  —  the  poor 
child!  —  to  resist  him.  She  scarcely  replied;  but  her 
silence  held  the  gate  —  against  his  onslaughts.  And  at 
last  she  tottered  to  her  feet. 

"  Mr.  Mark  —  dear  Mr.  Mark !  —  let  me  go !  " 
Her  voice,  her  aspect  struck  him  dumb.     And  before 
he  could  rally  his  forces  again,  the  door  shut,  and  she 
was  gone. 


Chapter  XVI 

*^O0  I  mustn't  argue  any  more?"  said  Lady  Ton- 

^^  bridge,  looking  at  Delia,  who  was  seated  by  her 
guest's  fire,  and  wore  the  weary  aspect  of  one  who  had 
already  been  argued  with  a  good  deal. 

Madeleine's  tone  was  one  of  suppressed  exasperation. 
Exasperation  rather  with  the  general  nature  of  things 
than  with  Delia.  It  was  difficult  to  be  angry  with 
one  whose  perversity  made  her  so  evidently  wretched. 
But  as  to  the  "  intolei'able  woman  "  who  had  got  the 
girl's  conscience  —  and  Winnington's  happiness  —  in 
her  power,  Lady  Tonbridge's  feelings  were  at  a  white 
heat.  How  to  reason  with  Delia,  without  handling 
Gertrude  Marvell  as  she  deserved  —  there  was  the  dif- 
ficulty. 

In  any  case,  Delia  was  unshakeable.  If  Weston  were 
really  out  of  danger  —  Dr.  France  was  to  bring  over 
the  Brownniouth  specialist  on  Monday  —  then  that 
very  afternoon,  or  the  next  morning,  Delia  must  and 
would  go  to  London  to  join  Gertrude  Marvell.  And 
six  days  later  Parliament  would  re-assemble  under  the 
menace  of  raids  and  stone-throwings,  to  which  the  Toc- 
sin had  been  for  weeks  past  summoning  "  The  Daugh- 
ters of  Revolt,"  throughout  the  country,  in  terms  of 
passionate  violence.  In  those  proceedings  Delia  had 
apparently  determined  to  take  her  part.  As  to  this 
Lady  Tonbridge  had  not  been  able  to  move  her  in  the 
least. 

The  case  for  Winnington  seemed  indeed  for  the 
301 


302  Delia  Blanchflower 

moment  desperate.  After  his  scene  with  Delia,  he  had 
left  the  Abbey  immediately,  and  Lady  Tonbridge, 
though  certain  that  something  important  —  and  dis- 
astrous —  had  happened,  would  have  known  nothing, 
but  for  a  sudden  confession  from  Delia,  as  the  two 
ladies  sat  together  in  the  drawing-room  after  dinner. 
Delia  had  abruptly  laid  down  her  book,  with  which  she 
was  clearly  only  trifling  —  in  order  to  say  — 

"  I  think  I  had  better  tell  you  at  once  that  my  guard- 
ian asked  me  to  marry  him,  this  afternoon,  and  I  re- 
fused." 

Since  this  earthquake  shock,  Madeleine  Tonbridge 
could  imagine  nothing  more  unsatisfactory  than  the  con- 
versations between  them  which  had  begun  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, and  lingered  on  till,  now,  at  nearly  midnight, 
sheer  weariness  on  both  sides  had  brought  them  to 
an  end.  When  Madeleine  had  at  last  thrown  up  ar- 
gument as  hopeless,  Delia  M'ith  a  face  of  carven  wax, 
and  so  handsome  through  it  all  that  Lady  Tonbridge 
could  have  beaten  her  for  sheer  vexation,  had  said  a 
quiet  goodnight  and  departed. 

But  she  was  in  love  xcith  him,  the  foolish,  obstinate 
child !  —  wildly,  absorbingly  in  love  with  him !  The 
fact  was  tragically  evident,  in  everything  she  said,  and 
everything  she  left  unsaid. 

The  struggle  lay  then  between  her  loyalty  to  her 
friend,  the  passionate  loyalty  of  woman  to  woman,  so 
newl}'-  and  strangel}^  developed  by  the  Suffrage  move- 
ment, and  Winnington's  advancing  influence, —  the  in- 
fluence of  a  man  equipped  surely  with  all  the  means  of 
victory  —  character,  strength,  charm  —  over  the  girl's 
heart  and  imagination.      He  must  conquer ! 

And  yet  Madeleine  Tonbridge,  staring  into  the  ashes 
of  a  dwindling  fire,  had  never  persuaded  herself  —  in- 


Delia  Blanchfiower  303 

corrigible  optimist  that  she  was  —  to  so  little  pur- 
pose. 

What  teas  there  at  the  back  of  the  girl's  mind? 
Something  more  than  appeared;  though  what  appeared 
was  bad  enough.  One  seemed  at  times  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  some  cloaked  and  brooding  Horror,  in  the 
dim  background  of  the  girl's  consciousness,  and  over- 
shadowing it.  What  more  likely  indeed,  with  this  wild 
campaign  sweeping  through  the  country  .f*  She  prob- 
ably knew  or  suspected  things  that  her  moral  sense  con- 
demned,   to    which    she   wasc  nevertheless    committed. 

"  We  shall  end  by  proving  all  that  the  enemy  says  of 
us ;  we  shall  give  our  chance  away  for  a  generation !  " 

"  Do  for  Heaven's  sake  keep  the  young  lady  at 
home !  " 

The  speaker  was  Dr.  France.  After  seeing  his  pa- 
tient, dismissing  the  specialist,  and  spending  half  an 
hour  tete-a-tete  with  Delia,  he  came  down  to  see  Lady 
Tonbridge  in  a  state  that  in  any  one  else  would  have 
been  a  state  of  agitation.  In  him  all  that  appeared  was 
a  certain  hawkish  glitter  in  the  eye,  and  a  tendency  to 
pull  and  pinch  a  scarcely  existing  moustache.  But 
jNIadeleine,  who  knew  him  well,  understood  that  he  was 
just  as  much  at  feud  with  the  radical  absurdity  of 
things  as  she  was. 

"  No  one  can  keep  her  at  home.  Delia  is  of  age," 
she  said,  rising  to  meet  him,  with  a  face  as  serious  as 
his  own. 

"  If  she  gets  into  prison,  and  hunger-strikes,  she'll 
injure  herself!  She's  extraordinarily  run  down  with 
this  business  of  Weston's.  I  don't  believe  she  could 
stand  the  sheer  excitement  of  what  she  proposes  to  do." 

"She's  told  you?" 


304  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Quite  enough.  If  she  once  goes  up  to  town  —  if 
she  once  gets  into  that  woman's  clutches,  no  one  can 
tell  what  will  happen.  Oh,  you  women  —  you  women !  " 
And  the  doctor  walked  tigerishly  up  and  down  the  room. 
"  That  some  of  the  cleverest  and  wisest  of  you  can 
stoop  to  dabbling  in  a  business  like  this !  Upon  my 
word  it's  an  eye-opener!  —  it  pulls  one  up.  And  you 
think  you  can  drive  men  by  such  antics !  The  more 
you  smash  and  burn,  the  more  firmly  goes  down  the 
male  foot  —  3'^es,  and  the  female  too  !  " 

And  the  doctor,  with  a  glare,  and  a  male  foot  as  firm 
as  he  could  make  it,  came  to  a  stop  beside  Lady  Ton- 
bridge  —  who  looked  at  him  cooll3\ 

*'  Excellent !  —  but  no  concern  of  mine.  I'm  not  a 
militant.  I  want  the  vote  just  as  much  as  Delia 
does !  "  said  Lady  Tonbridge,  firmly.  "  Don't  forget 
that." 

"  No,  3'ou  don't  —  you  don't !  Excuse  me.  You  are 
a  reasonable  woman." 

"  Half  the  reasonable  women  in  England  want  tlie 
vote.     Why  shouldn't  I  have  a  vote  —  as  well  as  you  ?  " 

"  Because,  my  dear  lady  — "  the  doctor  smote  the 
table  with  his  hand  for  emphasis  — "  because  the  par- 
liamentary vote  means  the  government  of  men  hy  men 

—  without  which  we  go  to  pieces.     And  you  propose 
now  to  make  it  include  the  government  of  men  by  women 

—  which  is  absurd  !  —  and  if  you  try  it,  will  only  break 
up  the  only  real  government  that  exists,  or  can  exist !  " 

"  Oh  !  — '  physical  force,'  "  said  Madeleine,  contemp- 
tuously, with  her  nose  in  the  air. 

"  Well  —  did  I  —  did  you  —  make  the  physical  dif- 
ference between  men  and  women?     Can  we  unmake  it?  " 

"  We  are  governed  by   discussion  —  not  by   force." 

"Are  we?     Look  at  South  Africa  —  look  at  Ulster 


Delia  Blanchflower  305 

—  look  at  the  labour  troubles  that  have  been,  and  are 
to  be.  And  then  yon  women  come  along  with  your 
claim  to  the  vote!  What  are  you  doing  but  breaking 
up  all  the  social  values  —  weakening  all  the  foundations 
of  the  social  edifice !     Woe !  —  to  you  women  especially 

—  when  you  teach  men  to  despise  the  vote  —  when  men 
come  to  know  that  behind  the  paper  currency  of  a 
vote  which  may  be  a  man's  or  a  woman's,  there  is  noth- 
ing but  an  opinion  —  bad  or  good !  At  present,  I  tell 
you,  the  great  conventions  of  democracy  hold  because 
there  is  reality  of  bone  and  muscle  behind  them ! 
Break  down  that  reality  —  and  sooner  or  later  we 
come  back  to  force  again  —  through  bloodshed  and 
anarchy !  " 

"  Inevitable  —  all  the  same !  "  cried  Madeleine. 
"  Why  did  you  ever  let  us  taste  education  ?  —  if  you 
are  to  deny  us  for  ever  political  equality?  " 

"  Use  your  education,  my  dear  Madam !  "  said  the 
doctor,  indignantly.  "  Are  there  not  many  roads  to 
political  equality?  —  many  forms  of  govei-nment  within 
government,  that  may  be  tried,  before  you  insist  on  ruin- 
ing us  by  doing  men's  work  in  the  men's  way  ?  Hasn't 
it  taken  more  than  a  hundred  years  to  settle  that  Irish 
question,  which  began  with  the  Union  ?  Is  it  a  hundred 
years  since  it  was  a  hanging  matter  to  steal  a  handker- 
chief off  a  hedge?  Can't  you  give  us  a  hundred  years 
for  the  Woman  Question?  Sixty  years  only,  since  the 
higher  education  of  \romen  began !  Isn't  the  science  of 
government  developing  every  day?  Women  have  got, 
you  say,  to  be  fitted  into  government  —  I  agree !  I 
agree!  But  don't  rush  it!  Claim  everything  —  what 
you  like !  —  except  only  that  sovereign  vote,  which  con- 
trols, and  must  control,  the  male  force  of  an  Empire!  " 

"  Jove's  thunder  !  "  scofFed  Lady  Tonbridge.     "  Well 


3o6  Delia  Blanchflower 

—  my  dear  old   friend !  —  you   and   I   shan't   agree  — 
you  know  that.     Now  what  can  I  do  for  Delia?  " 

"  Nothing,"  said  France  gloomily.  "  Unless  some 
one  goes  up  to  watch  over  her." 

"  Her  guardian  will  go,"  said  Madeleine  quietly,  after 
a  pause. 

They  eyed  each  other. 

"You're  sure?"  said  France. 

"  Quite  sure  —  though  I've  not  said  a  word  to  him 

—  nor  he  to  me." 

"  All  right  then  —  she's  worth  it !  By  George,  she's 
got  the  makings  of  something  splendid  in  her.  I  tell 
you  she's  had  as  much  to  do  as  any  of  us  with  saving 
the  life  of  that  woman  upstairs.  Courage?  —  tender- 
ness? — '  not  arf.'  " 

The  slangy  term  shewed  the  speaker's  desire  to  get 
rid  of  his  own  feelings.  He  had,  at  any  rate,  soon 
smothered  them,  and  he  and  Lady  Tonbridge,  their 
chairs  drawn  close,  fell  into  a  very  confidential  dis- 
cussion. France  was  one  of  those  country  doctors, 
not  rare  fortunately  in  England,  in  whom  a  whole 
neighbourhood  confides,  whom  a  whole  neighbourhood 
loves ;  all  the  more  if  a  man  betrays  a  fair  allowance 
of  those  gnarls  and  twists  of  character,  of  strong  preju- 
dices, and  harmless  manias,  which  enable  the  common 
herd  to  take  him  to  their  bosoms.  Dr.  France  was 
a  stamp-collector,  a  player  —  indifferent  —  on  the 
cornet,  a  rabid  Tory,  and  a  person  who  could  never  be 
trusted  to  deal  faithfully  and  on  C.O.S.  principles  with 
tramps  and  "  undesirables."  Such  things  temper  the 
majesty  of  virtue,  and  make  even  the  good  human. 

He  had  known  and  prescribed  for  Winnington  since 
he  was  a  boy  in  knickers ;  he  was  particularly  attached 
to  Lady  Tonbridge.     What  he  and  Madeleine  talked 


Delia  Blanchflower  307 

about  is  not  of  great  importance  to  this  narrative ;  but 
it  is  certain  that  France  left  the  house  in  much  con- 
cern for  a  man  he  loved,  and  a  girl  who,  in  the  teeth  of 
his  hottest  beliefs,  had  managed  to  touch  his  feelings. 

Delia  spent  the  day  in  packing.  Winnington  made 
no  sign.  In  the  afternoon, —  it  was  a  wet  Saturday 
afternoon  —  Lady  Tonbridge  sitting  in  the  drawing- 
room,  saw  the  science  mistress  of  the  Dame  Perrott 
School  coming  up  the  drive.  Madeleine  knew  her  as  a 
"  Daughter,"  and  could  not  help  scowling  at  her  —  un- 
seen. 

She  was  at  once  admitted  however,  and  spent  a  short 
time  with  Delia  in  the  Library. 

And  when  Miss  Jackson  closed  the  Library  door  be- 
hind her  on  her  way  out  of  the  house,  Delia  broke  the 
seal  of  a  letter  which  had  been  given  into  her  hands :  — 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  my  dear  Delia,  you  should  have  taken 
these  silly  reports  so  much  to  heart.  You  had  better  dis- 
miss them  from  your  mind.  I  have  given  no  such  orders 
as  you  suppose  —  nor  has  the  Central  Office.  The  plan 
you  found  referred  to  something  quite  different  —  I  really 
can't  remember  what.  I  can't  of  course  be  responsible  for 
all  the  '  Daughters  '  in  England,  but  I  have  much  more 
important  business  to  think  of  just  now  than  the  nonsense 
Mr.  Lathrop  seems  to  have  been  stuffing  you  with.     As  to 

W L ,  it  would  only  be  ■worth  while  to  strike  at 

him,  if  our  affairs  cjo  "wrong  —  through  him.  At  present, 
I  am  extraordinary  hopeful.  We  are  winning  every  day. 
People  see  that  we  are  in  earnest,  and  mean  to  succeed  — 
at  whatever  cost. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  coming  ujo  on  Monday.  You  will 
find  the  flat  anything  but  a  comfortable  or  restful  place, — 
but  that  you  will  be  prepared  for.  Our  people  are  amaz- 
ing !  —  and  we  shall  get  into  the  House  on  Thursday,  or 
know  the  reason  whv. 


3o8  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  For  the  money  you  sent,  and  the  money  you  promise  — 
best  thanks.  Everybody  is  giving.  It  is  the  spirit  of  the 
Crusader,  '  Dieu  le  veult ! ' 

"  Your  affectionate 

"  G.  M." 

Delia  read  and  re-read  it.  It  was  the  first  time  Ger- 
trude had  deliberately  tried  to  deceive  her,  and  the  girl's 
heart  was  sore.  Even  now,  she  was  not  to  be  trusted  — 
"  now  that  I  am  risking  everything  —  everything!  " 
And  with  the  letter  in  her  lap,  she  sat  and  thought  of 
Winnington's  face,  as  he  had  turned  to  look  at  her, 
before  leaving  the  drawing-room  the  night  before. 

The  day  passed  drearily.  The  hills  and  trees  were 
wrapped  in  a  damp  fog,  and  though  the  days  were 
lengthening  fast,  the  evening  closed  like  November. 
Madeleine  thought  with  joy  of  getting  back  to  her  tiny 
house  and  her  Nora.  Nora,  who  was  not  yet  out, 
seemed  to  have  been  enjoying  a  huge  success  in  the 
large  cousinly  party  with  whom  she  had  been  spending 
the  Christmas  holidays.  "  But  it's  an  odd  place. 
Mummy.  In  the  morning  we  *  rag ' ;  and  the  rest  of 
the  day  we  talk  religion.  Everybody  is  either  Buddhist 
or  '  Bahai ' —  if  that's  the  right  way  to  spell  it.  It 
sounds  odd,  but  it  seems  to  be  a  very  good  way  of  get- 
ting on  with  young  men." 

Heavens!  What  did  it  matter  how  you  played  the 
old  game,  or  with  what  counters,  so  long  as  it  was 
played  ? 

And  as  Lady  Tonbridge  watched  the  figure  of  Delia 
gliding  through  the  house,  wrapped  in  an  estranging 
silence,  things  ancient  and  traditional  returned  upon 
her  in  flood,  and  nothing  in  the  world  seemed  worth 


Delia  Blanchflower  309 

having  but  young  love  and  happy  marriage !  —  If  you 
could  get  them !  She  —  and  her  heart  knew  its  bit- 
terness —  had  made  the  great  throw  and  lost. 

Sunday  passed  in  the  same  isolation.  But  on  Sun- 
day afternoon  Delia  took  the  motor  out  alone,  and 
ffave  no  reason  either  before  or  after. 

"  If  she's  gone  out  to  meet  that  man,  it's  a  scandal!  " 
thought  Madeleine  wrathfully,  and  could  hardly  bring 
herself  to  be  civil  when  the  girl  returned  —  pale, 
wearied,  and  quite  uncommunicative.  But  she  was  very 
touching  in  a  mute,  dignified  way,  all  the  evening,  and 
Madeleine  relented  fast.  And,  as  they  sat  in  the  fire- 
lit  drawing-room,  when  the  curtains  were  drawn,  Delia 
suddenly  brought  a  stool  close  to  Lady  Tonbridge's 
side,  and,  sitting  at  her  feet,  held  up  appealing  arms. 
Madeleine,  with  a  rush  of  motherliness,  gathered  her 
close;  and  the  beautiful  head  lay,  very  quiet,  on  her 
breast.  But  when  she  would  have  entreated,  or  argued, 
again,  Delia  implored  her  • — "  Don't  —  don't  talk !  — 
it's  no  good.     Just  let  me  stay." 

Late  that  night,  all  being  ready  for  departure,  Delia 
went  in  to  say  good-night,  and  good-bye  to  Weston. 

"  You'll  be  downstairs  and  as  strong  as  a  horse, 
when  I  come  back,"  she  said  gaily,  stroking  the  patient's 
emaciated  fingers. 

Weston  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  good  for  much,  Miss 
Delia.  But  " —  and  her  voice  suddenly  broke  — "  I  be- 
lieve I'd  go  through  it  all  again  —  just  to  know  —  what 
—  you  could  be  —  to  a  poor  thing  —  like  me." 

"  Weston !  — "  said  Delia,  softly  — "  if  you  talk  like 
that  —  and  if  you  dare  to  cry.  Nurse  will  turn  me  out. 
You're   going   to   get   quite   well,   but  whether  you're 


310  Delia  Blanchflower 

well  or  ill,  here  you  stay,  Miss  Rosina  Weston !  —  and 
I'm  going  to  look  after  you.  Polly  hasn't  packed  my 
things  half  badly."  Polly  was  the  under-housemaid, 
whom  Delia  was  taking  to  town. 

"  She  wouldn't  be  worth  her  salt,  if  she  hadn't,"  said 
Weston  tartly.  "  But  she  can't  do  your  hair,  Miss  — 
and  it's  no  good  saying  she  can." 

"  Then  I'll  do  it  myself.  I'll  make  some  sort  of  a 
glorious  mess  of  it,  and  set  the  fashion." 

But  her  thought  said  — "  If  I  go  to  prison,  they'll 
cut  it  off.     Poor  Weston !  " 

Weston  moved  uneasily  — 

"Miss  Delia.?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Don't  you  go  getting  yourself  into  trouble.  Now 
don't  you !  "  And  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  the  ghostly 
creature  pressed  the  girl's  hand  to  her  lips.  Delia 
stooped  and  kissed  her.  But  she  made  no  reply.  In- 
stead she  began  to  talk  of  the  new  bed-rest  which  had 
just  been  provided  for  Weston,  and  on  which  the  patient 
professed  herself  wonderfully  comfortable. 

"  It's  better  than  the  one  we  had  at  Meran  —  for 
papa."  Her  voice  dropped.  She  sat  at  the  foot  of 
Weston's  bed  looking  absently  into  some  scene  of  the 
past. 

"  Nothing  ever  gave  him  ease  —  your  poor  Papa  !  " 
said  Weston,  pitifully.  "  He  did  suffer !  But  don't 
you  go  thinking  about  it  this  time  of  night,  Miss  Delia, 
or  you  won't  sleep." 

Delia  said  goodnight,  and  went  away.  But  she  did 
think  of  her  father  —  with  a  curious  intensity.  And 
when  she  fell  fitfully  asleep,  she  dreamt  that  she  saw 
him  standing  beside  her  in  some  open  foreign  place, 
and  that  he  looked  at  her  in  silence,  steadily  and  coldly. 


Delia  Blanchflower  31 1 

And  she  stretched  out  her  hands,  in  a  rush  of  grief  — 
"  Kiss  me,  father !  I  was  unkind  —  horribly  —  hor- 
ribly unkind !  " 

With  the  pain  of  it,  she  woke  suddenly  and  the 
visualising  sense  seemed  still  to  perceive  in  the  dark- 
ness the  white  head  and  soldierly  fomi.  She  half  rose, 
gasping.  Then,  as  though  a  photographic  shutter  were 
let  down,  the  image  passed  from  the  brain,  and  she 
lay  with  heaving  breast,  trying  to  find  her  way  back 
into  what  we  call  reality.  But  it  was  a  reality  even 
more  wretched  than  those  recollections  to  which  her 
dream  had  recalled  her.  For  it  was  held  and  possessed 
by  Winnington,  and  now  by  the  threatening  vision  of 
Monk  Lawrence,  spectral  amid  the  red  ruin  of  fire. 
She  had  stopped  the  motor  that  day  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  on  which  the  house  stood,  and  using  Winnington's 
name,  had  made  a  call  on  the  cripple  child.  Daunt  had 
received  her  with  a  somewhat  gruff  civilit}^,  and  was  not 
communicative  about  the  house  and  its  defence.  But 
she  gathered  —  without  herself  broaching  the  subject  — 
that  he  was  scornfully  confident  of  his  power  to  protect 
it  against  "  them  creeping  women,"  and  she  had  come 
home  comforted.  The  cripple  child  had  clung  to  her 
silently ;  and  on  coming  away,  Delia  had  felt  a  small 
wet  kiss  upon  her  hand.  A  touching  creature  !  —  with 
her  wide  blue  eyes,  and  delicate  drawn  face.  It  was 
feared  that  another  abscess  might  be  developing  in  the 
little  hip,  where  for  a  time  disease  had  been  quiescent. 

On  Monday  morning  the  doctors  came  early.  They 
gave  a  favourable  verdict,  and  Delia  at  once  decided  on 
an  afternoon  train. 

All  the  morning.  Lad}'  Tonbridge  hovered  round  her, 
loth  to  take  her  own  departure,  and  trying  ever}^  now 


312  Delia  Blanchflower 

and  then  to  re-open  the  subject  of  London,  to  make 
the  girl  promise  to  send  for  her  —  to  consult  Winning- 
ton,  if  any  trouble  arose. 

But  Delia  would  not  allow  any  discussion.  "  I  shall 
be  with  Gertrude  —  she'll  tell  me  what  to  do,"  was  all 
she  would  say. 

Lady  Tonbridge  was  dropped  at  her  own  door  by 
Delia,  on  her  way  to  the  station.  Nora  was  there  to 
welcome  her,  but  not  all  their  joy  in  recovering  each 
other,  could  repair  Madeleine's  cheerfulness.  She 
stood,  looking  after  the  retreating  car  with  such  a  face 
that  Nora  exclaimed  — 

"  Mother,  what  is  the  matter !  " 

"  I'm  watching  the  tumbril  out  of  sight,"  said  Lady 
Tonbridge  incoherently.  "  Shall  we  ever  see  her 
again  .P  " 

That,  however,  was  someone  else's  affair. 

Delia  took  her  own  and  her  housemaid's  tickets  for 
London,  saw  her  companion  established,  and  then,  pre- 
ferring to  be  alone,  stepped  into  an  empty  carriage 
herself.  She  had  hardly  disposed  her  various  packages, 
and  the  train  was  within  two  minutes  of  starting, 
when  a  tall  man  came  quickly  along  the  platform,  in- 
specting the  carriages  as  he  passed.  Delia  did  not  see 
him  till  he  was  actually  at  her  window.  In  another 
moment  he  had  opened  and  closed  the  door,  and  had 
thrown  down  his  newspapers  and  overcoat  on  the  seat. 
The  train  was  just  starting,  and  Delia,  crimson,  found 
herself  mechanically  shaking  hands  with  Mark  Win- 
nington. 

"  You're  going  up  to  town  ?  "  She  stammered  it. 
"  I  didn't  know  — " 

"  I  shall  be  in  town  for  a  few  days.  Are  you  quite 
comfortable.^     A  footwarmer.'"' 


Delia  Blanchflower  313 

For  the  day  was  cold  and  frost}',  with  a  bitter  east 
wind. 

"  I'm  quite  warm,  thank  you." 

The  train  ran  out  of  the  station,  and  they  were  soon 
in  the  open  country.  Delia  leant  back  in  her  seat, 
silent,  conscious  of  her  own  hurrying  pulses,  but  de- 
termined to  control  them.  She  would  have  liked  to  be 
indignant  —  to  protest  that  she  was  being  persecuted 
and  coerced.  But  the  recollection  of  their  last  meet- 
ing, and  the  sheer,  inconvenient,  shameful,  joy  of  his 
presence  there,  opposite,  interposed. 

Winnington  himself  was  quite  cool ;  there  were  no 
signs  whatever  of  any  intention  to  renew  their  Friday's 
conversation.  His  manner  and  tone  were  just  as  usual. 
Some  business  at  the  Home  Office,  connected  with  his 
County  Council  work,  called  him  to  town.  He  should 
be  staying  at  his  Club  in  St.  James's  St.  Alice  Mathe- 
son  also  would  be  in  town. 

"  Shall  we  join  for  a  theatre,  one  night?  "  he  asked 
her. 

She  felt  suddenly  angered.  Was  she  never  to  be 
believed,  never  to  be  taken  seriously.'^ 

"  To-morrow,  Mr.  Mark,  is  the  meeting  of  Parlia- 
ment." 

"  That  I  am  aware  of." 

"  The  day  after,  I  shall  probably  be  in  prison !  " 

She  fronted  him  bravely,  though,  as  he  saw,  with  an 
effort.  He  paused  a  moment,  but  showed  no  astonish- 
ment. 

"  I  hope  not.     I  think  not,"  he  said,  quietly. 

Delia  took  up  tlie  evening  paper  she  had  just  bought 
at  the  station,  opened  it,  and  looked  at  the  middle  page. 

"  There  are  our  plans,"  she  said,  defiantly,  handing 
it  to  him. 


314  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  Thank  you.     I  have  already  seen  it." 

But  he  again  read  through  attentively  the  paragraph 
to  which  she  pointed  him.  It  was  headed  "  Militant 
Plans  for  To-morrow."  A  procession  of  five  hundred 
women  was  to  march  on  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  at 
the  moment  of  the  King's  Speech.  "  We  insist  " —  said 
the  Manifesto  issued  from  the  offices  of  the  League  of 
Revolt  — "  upon  our  right  of  access  to  the  King,  or 
failing  His  Majesty,  to  the  Prime  Minister.  We  mean 
business  and  we  shall  be  armed." 

Winnington  pointed  to  the  word  "  armed." 

"  With  stones  —  I  presume?  " 

"  Well,  not  revolvers,  I  hope ! "  said  Delia.  "  I 
should  certainly  shoot  myself." 

Tension  broke  up  in  slightly  hysterical  laughter. 
She  was  already  in  better  spirits.  There  was  some- 
thing exciting  —  exhilarating  even  —  in  the  duel  be- 
tween herself  and  Winnington,  which  was  implied  in  the 
conversation.  His  journey  up  to  town,  the  look  in  his 
grey  eyes  meant  — "  I  shall  prevent  you  from  doing 
what  you  are  intending  to  do."  But  he  could  not  pre- 
vent it.  If  he  was  the  breakwater,  she  was  the  storm- 
wave,  driven  by  the  gale  —  by  the  wind  from  afar,  of 
which  she  felt  herself  the  sport,  and  sometimes  the 
victim  —  without  its  changing  her  purpose  in  the 
least. 

"  Only  I  shall  not  refuse  food !  "  she  thought.  "  I 
shall  spare  him  that.  I  shall  serve  my  sentence.  It 
won't  be  long." 

But  afterwards.''  Would  she  then  be  free.''  Free  to 
follow  Gertrude  or  not,  according  to  her  judgment.'' 
Would  she  have  "  purged  "  her  promise  —  paid  her  shot 
- —  recovered  the  governance  of  herself? 

Her   thoughts   discussed  the   future,  when,   all   in   a 


Delia  Blanchflower  315 

moment,  Winnington,  watching  her  from  behind  his 
Times,  saw  a  pale  startled  look.  It  seemed  to  be  caused 
by  something  in  the  landscape.  He  turned  his  eyes 
to  the  window  and  saw  that  they  were  passing  an  old 
manor  house,  with  a  gabled  front,  standing  above  the 
line,  among  trees.  What  could  that  have  had  to  do 
with  the  sudden  contraction  of  the  beautiful  brow,  the 
sudden  look  of  terror  —  or  distress?  The  house  had 
a  certain  resemblance  to  Monk  Lawrence.  Had  it  re- 
minded her  of  that  speech  in  the  Latchford  market- 
place from  which  he  was  certain  she  had  recoiled,  no 
less  than  he? 


«  x-^. 


You'll  let  me  take  you  to  the  flat?  I've  been  over 
it  once,  but  I  should  like  to  see  it's  in  order." 

She  hesitated,  but  how  could  she  refuse?  He  put 
her  into  a  taxi,  having  already  dispatched  her  maid 
with  the  luggage  in  another,  and  they  started. 

"  I  expect  you'll  find  a  lot  of  queer  people  there !  " 
she  said,  trying  to  laugh,  "  At  least  you'll  think  them 
queer." 

"  I  shall  like  to  see  the  people  you  are  working  with," 
he  said,  gravely. 

Half  way  to  Westminster,  he  turned  to  her. 

"  Miss  Delia !  —  it's  my  plain  duty  to  tell  you  — 
again  —  and  to  keep  on  telling  you,  even  though  it 
makes  you  angry,  and  even  though  I  have  no  power  to 
stop  you,  that  in  taking  part  in  these  doings  to-morrow, 
you  are  doing  a  wrong  thing,  a  grievously  wrong  thing ! 
If  I  were  only  an  ordinary  friend,  I  should  try  to  dis- 
suade you  with  all  my  might.  But  I  represent  your 
father  —  and  you  know  what  he  would  have  felt." 

He    saw   her   lips    tremble.     But    she    spoke    calmly, 

Yes, —  I  know.      But   it   can't  be  helped.     We  can't 


«  \', 


3i6  Delia  Blanchflower 

agree,  Mr.  Mark,  and  it's  no  good  my  trying  to  ex- 
plain, any  more  —  just  ^^et ! — "  she  added,  in  a  lower 
tone. 

"  *  Just  yet'.?     What  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"  I   mean  that  some  time, —  perhaps  sometime  soon 

—  I  shall  be  ready  to  argue  the  whole  thing  with  you  — 
what's   right  and  what's  wrong.     Now  I  can't  argue 

—  I'm  not  free  to.  Don't  you  see  — '  Ours  not  to  make 
reply, —  ours  but  to  do,  or  die.'  "  Her  smile  flashed 
out.  "  There's  not  going  to  be  any  dying  about  it 
however  — you  know  that  as  well  as  I  do."  Then  with 
a  touch  of  mockery  she  bent  towards  him.  "  You  won't 
persuade  me,  Mr.  Mark,  that  you  take  us  very  seriously ! 
But  I'm  not  angry  at  that  —  I'm  not  angry  —  at  any- 
thing !  " 

And  her  face,  as  he  scanned  it,  melted  —  changed 
• —  became  all  soft  sadness,  and  deprecating  appeal. 
Never  had  she  seemed  to  him  so  fascinating.  Never 
had  he  felt  himself  so  powerless.  He  thought,  despair- 
ingly — "  If  I  had  her  to  myself,  I  could  take  her  in  my 
arms,  and  make  her  give  way !  " 

But  here  were  the  first  signs  of  arrival  —  a  narrow 
Westminster  street  —  a  towering  group  of  flats.  The 
taxi  stopped,  and  Winnington  jumped  out. 


Chapter  XVII 

DELIA'S  luggage  was  brought  in  b}'  the  hall  porter, 
and  she  and  Winnington  stood  waiting  for  the  lift. 
Meanwhile  Winnington  happened  to  notice,  through  the 
open  door  of  the  mansions,  a  couple  of  policemen  stand- 
ing just  outside,  on  the  pavement,  and  two  others  on 
the  further  side  of  the  street.  It  seemed  to  him  they 
were  keeping  the  house  which  Delia  and  he  had  just 
entered  under  observation. 

The  lift  descended.  There  were  in  it  four  women, 
all  talking  eagerly  in  subdued  tones.  One  was  gi'ey- 
haired,  the  others  were  quite  young  girls.  The  strained, 
excited  look  on  all  their  faces  struck  Winnington 
sharpl}''  as  they  emerged  from  the  lift.  One  of  the 
girls  looked  curiousl}'  at  Delia  and  her  tall  companion. 
The  grey-haired  lady's  attention  was  caught  by  the 
policeman  outside.      She  gave  a  little  chuckle. 

"  We  shall  have  plenty  to  do  with  those  gentry 
to-morrow !  "  she  said  to  the  girl  beside  her,  drawing 
her  cloak  round  her  so  that  it  displayed  a  black  and 
orange  badge. 

Delia  approached  her. 

"  Is  INIiss  Marvell  here?  " 

They  all  stopped  and  eyed  her. 

"  Yes,  she's  upstairs.  She's  just  come  back  from 
the  Central.  But  she's  very  bus}',"  said  the  elder  lad}'. 
"  She  won't  see  you  without  an  appointment." 

One  of  the  girls  suddenly  looked  at  Delia,  and 
whispered  to  the  speaker. 

317 


3i8  Delia  Blanchfiower 

"  Oh,  I  see ! "  said  that  lady,  vaguely.  "  Are  you 
Miss  Blanchfiower  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

''  I  beg  3"our  pardon.  Miss  Marvell's  expecting  you 
of  course.  Do  make  her  rest  a  bit  if  you  can.  She's 
simply  splendid!  She's  going  to  be  one  of  our  great 
leaders.  I'm  glad  you  won't  miss  it  after  all.  You've 
been  dela3'ed,  haven't  you.''  —  by  somebody's  illness. 
Well,  it's  going  magnificently^ !  We  shall  make  Parlia- 
ment listen  —  at  last.  Though  they'll  protect  them- 
selves no  doubt  with  any  number  of  police  —  cowards  !  " 

The  eyes  of  the  speaker,  as  her  face  came  into  the 
light  of  the  hall  lamp,  sparkled  maliciously.  She 
seemed  to  direct  her  words  especially  to  Winnington, 
who  stood  impassive.  Delia  turned  to  the  lift,  and  they 
ascended. 

They  were  admitted,  after  much  ringing.  A  be- 
wildered maid  looked  at  Delia,  and  the  luggage  behind 
her,  as  though  she  had  never  heard  of  her  before.  And 
the  whole  flat  in  the  background  seemed  alive  with  voices 
and  bustle.     Winnington  lost  patience. 

"  Tell  this  man,  please,  where  to  take  Miss  Blanch- 
f!ower's  luggage  at  once.  And  where  is  the  drawing- 
room.''  " 

"Are  you  going  to  stay,  Miss.^*"  said  the  girl. 
"  There's  only  the  small  bedroom  vacant." 

Delia  burst  out  laughing  —  especially  at  the  sight  of 
Winnington's   irate   countenance. 

"  All  right.  It'll  do  quite  well.  Now  tell  me  where 
Miss  Marvell  is." 

"  I  mustn't  interrupt  her,  Miss." 

"  This  is  my  flat,"  said  Delia,  good-humouredly  — 
"  so  I  think  you  must.  And  please  shew  Mr.  Winning- 
ton  the  drawing-room." 


Delia  Blanchflower  319 

The  girl,  with  an  astonished  face,  opened  a  door 
for  Winnington,  into  a  room  filled  with  people, 
and  then  —  unwillingly  —  led  Delia  along  the  pas- 
sage. 

Winnington  looked  round  him  in  bewilderment.  He 
had  entered,  it  seemed,  upon  a  busy  hive  of  women.  The 
room  was  full,  and  everybody  in  it  seemed  to  be  working 
at  high  pressure.  A  young  lady  at  a  central  table 
was  writing  telegrams  as  fast  as  possible,  and  handing 
them  to  a  telegraph  clerk  who  was  waiting.  Two  type- 
writers were  busy  in  the  further  corners.  A  woman, 
with  a  sharply  clever  face,  was  writing  near  by,  holding 
her  pad  on  her  knee,  while  a  printer's  boy,  cap  in  hand, 
was  sitting  by  her  waiting  for  her  "  copy."  Two  other 
women  were  undoing  and  sorting  rolls  of  posters.  Win- 
nington caught  the  head-lines  — "  Women  of  England, 
strike  for  your  liberties !  "  "  Remember  our  martyrs 
in  prison !  " — "  Destroy  propert}-"  —  and  save  lives  !  " 
''  If  violence  won  freedom  for  men,  why  not  for  women  !  " 
And  in  the  distance  of  the  room  were  groups  in  eager 
discussion.  A  few  had  maps  in  their  hands,  and  others 
note-books,  in  which  they  took  down  the  arrangements 
made.  So  far  as  their  talk  reached  Winnington's  ears, 
it  seemed  to  relate  to  the  converging  routes  of  proces- 
sions making  for  Parliament  Square. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Winnington,"  said  a  laughing 
voice,  as  a  daintily-dressed  woman,  with  fair  fluffy  hair 
came  towards  him. 

He  recognised  the  sister  of  a  well-known  member  of 
Parliament,  a  lady  who  had  already  been  imprisoned 
twice  for  window-breaking  in  Downing  Street. 

"  Who  would  have  thought  to  see  you  here !  "  she 
said,  gaily,  as  they  shook  hands. 

"  Surprising  —  I  admit !     I  came  to  see  Miss  Blanch- 


320  Delia  Blanchflower 

flower  settled  in  her  flat.  But  I  seem  to  have  stumbled 
into  an  office." 

"  The  Central  Office  simply  couldn't  hold  the  work. 
We  were  all  in  each  other's  way.  So  yesterday,  by 
Miss  Marvell's  instructions,  some  of  us  migrated  here. 
We  are  only  two  streets  from  the  central." 

"  Excellent !  "  said  Winnington.  "  But  it  might  per- 
haps have  been  well  to  inform  Miss  Blanchflower." 

The  flushed  babyish  face  under  the  fashionable  hat 
looked  at  him  askance.  Lady  Fanny's  tone  changed  — 
took  a  sharpened  edge. 

"  Miss  Blanchflower  —  you  may  be  quite  sure  —  will 
be  as  ready  as  anyone  else  to  make  sacrifices  for  the 
cause.     But  we  don't  expect  you  to  understand  that !  " 

"  Nobody   can  doubt  jovly  zeal,  Lady  Fanny." 

"  Only  my  discretion.''  Oh,  I've  long  left  that  to  take 
care  of  itself.     What  arc  you  here  for.''  " 

"  To  look  after  m}'^  ward." 

Lady  Fanny  eyed  him  again. 

"  Of  course !  I  had  forgotten.  Well,  she'll  be  all 
right." 

"  What  are  you  really  preparing  to  do  to-morrow.''  " 

"  Force  our  way  into  the  House  of  Commons !  " 

"  Which  means  —  get  into  an  ugly  scrimmage  with 
the  police,  and  put  your  cause  back  another  few  years.''  " 

"  Ah !  I  can't  talk  to  you,  if  you  talk  like  that ! 
There  isn't  time,"  she  threw  back,  with  laughing  affecta- 
tion, and  nodding  to  him,  she  fluttered  off  to  a  distant 
table  where  a  group  of  girls  were  busy  making  black 
and  orange  badges.  But  her  encounter  with  him 
seemed  to  have  affected  the  hive.  Its  buzz  sank,  almost 
ceased. 

Winnington  indeed  suddenly  discovered  that  all  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  him  —  that  he  was  being  closely  and 


Delia  Blanchflower  321 

angrily  obsers-ed.  He  was  conscious,  quickly  and 
strangely  conscious,  of  an  atmosphere  of  passionate 
hostility,  as  though  a  pulse  of  madness  ran  through  the 
twenty  or  thirt}*  women  present.  Meredithlan  lines 
flashed  Into  memory  — 

"  Thousand  eyeballs  under  hoods 
Have  you  by  the  hair  — " 

and  a  shock  of  inward  laughter  mingled  in  liis  mind 
with  Irritation  for  Delia  —  who  was  to  have  no  place 
apparently  in  her  own  flat  for  either  rest  or  food  — 
and  the  natural  wish  of  a  courteous  man  not  to  give 
offense.  At  the  same  moment,  he  perceived  on  one 
of  the  tables  a  heap  of  new  and  bright  objects;  and 
saw  at  once  that  they  were  light  hammers,  fresh  from 
the  ironmongers.  Near  them  lay  a  pile  of  stones,  and 
two  women  were  busily  casing  the  stones  In  a  printed 
leaflet.  But  he  had  no  sooner  become  aware  of  these 
things  than  several  persons  in  the  room  moved  so  as 
to  stand  between  him  and  them. 

He  went  back  into  the  passage,  closing  the  door 
behind  him. 

The  little  parlour-maid  came  hurriedly  from  the 
back  regions  carrying  a  tray  on  which  was  tea  and  bread 
and  butter. 

"  Are  3^ou  taking  that  to  Miss  Blanchflower?  " 

"Yes,  Sir." 

"  Shew  me  the  way,  please." 

Winnington  followed  her,  and  she,  after  a  scared 
look,  did  not  attempt  to  stop  him. 

She  paused  outside  a  door,  and  Instantly  made  way 
for  him.  He  knocked,  and  at  the  "  Come  In "  he 
entered,  the  maid  slipping  in  after  him  with  the  tea. 

Two  persons  rose  startled  from  i^ielr  seats  —  Delia 


322  Delia  Blanchflower 

and  Gertrude  Marvell.  He  had  chanced  upon  the  din- 
ing-room, which  no  less  than  the  drawing-room  had  been 
transformed  into  an  office  and  a  store-room.  Masses  of 
militant  literature,  copies  of  the  Tocsin,  books  and  sta- 
tionery covered  the  tables,  while,  on  the  wall  opposite 
the  door,  a  large  scale  map  of  the  streets  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  Houses  of  Parliament  had  been  hung 
over  a  picture. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  Delia  looked  ill  and  agitated. 
He  walked  up  to  her  companion,  and  spoke  with  vi- 
vacity — 

"Miss  Marvell!  —  I  protest  altogether  against  your 
proceedings  in  this  house!  I  protest  against  Miss 
Blanchfiower's  being  drawn  into  what  is  clearly  in- 
tended to  be  an  organised  riot,  which  may  end  in  phys- 
ical injury,  even  in  loss  of  hfe  —  which  will  certainly 
entail  imprisonment  on  the  ringleaders.  If  you  have 
any  affection  for  Delia  you  will  advise  her  to  let  me 
take  her  to  my  sister,  who  is  in  town  to-night,  at  Smith's 
Hotel,  and  will  of  course  most  gladly  look  after  her." 

Gertrude,  who  seemed  to  him  somehow  to  have 
dwindled  and  withered  into  an  elderly  woman  since  he 
had  last  seen  her,  looked  him  over  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  touch  of  smiling  insolence,  and  then  turned 
quietly  to  Delia. 

"Will  you  go,  Delia.?" 

"  No !  "  said  Delia,  throwing  back  her  beautiful  head. 
"  No !  This  is  my  place,  Mr.  Mark.  I'm  very  sorry 
—  but  you  must  leave  me  here.  Give  my  love  to  Mrs. 
Matheson." 

"  Delia !  "  He  turned  to  her  imploringly.  But  the 
softness  she  had  shewn  on  the  journey  had  died  out  of 
her  face.  She  stood  resolved,  and  some  cold  dividing 
force  seemed  to  have  rolled  between  them. 


Delia  Blanchflower  323 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  can  do,  Mr.  Winnington," 
said  Gertrude,  still  smiling.  "  I  have  pointed  that  out 
to  you  before.  As  a  matter  of  fact  Delia  will  not  even 
be  living  here  on  money  provided  by  you  at  all.  She 
has  other  resources.  You  have  no  hold  on  her  —  no 
power  —  that  I  can  see.  And  she  wishes  to  sta}'  with 
me.  I  think  we  must  bid  3'ou  good  night.  We  are  very 
busy." 

He  stood  a  moment,  looking  keenly  from  one  to  the 
other,  at  Gertrude's  triumphant  eyes  blazing  from  her 
emaciated  face,  at  Delia's  exalted,  tragic  air.  Then, 
with  a  bow,  and  in  silence,  he  left  the  room,  and  the 
house. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  he  emerged  on  Milbank  Street. 
All  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament  and 
the  Abbey  seemed  to  be  alive  with  business  and  traffic. 
But  Palace  Yard  was  still  empty  save  for  a  few  passing 
figures,  and  there  was  no  light  on  the  Clock  Tower. 
A  placard  on  the  railings  of  the  Square  caught  his 
notice  — "  Threatened  Raid  on  the  House  of  Commons. 
Police  precautions."  At  the  same  moment  he  was  con- 
scious that  a  policeman  standing  at  the  corner  of  the 
House  of  Commons  had  touched  his  hat  to  him,  grinning 
broadly.  Winnlngton  recognised  a  Maumscy  man, 
whom  he  had  befriended  in  various  ways,  who  owed  his 
place  indeed  in  the  Metropolitan  force  to  Winnington's 
good  word. 

"Hullo,  Hewson  —  how  are  you.''  Flourishing?" 
The  man's  face  beamed  again.  He  was  thinking  of 
a  cricket  match  the  year  before  under  Winnington's 
captaincy.  Like  every  member  of  the  eleven,  he 
would  have  faced  "  death  and  damnation  "  for  the  cap- 
tain. 


3^4  Delia  Blanchflower 

Thoy  walked  along-  the  man's  beat  together.  A 
thought  struck  Winnington. 

"  You  seem  likely  to  have  some  disturbance  here  to- 
morrow? "  he  said,  as  they  neared  Westminster  Bridge. 

"  It's  the  ladies,  Sir.  They  do  give  a  lot  of  trouble  !  " 
Winnington  laughed  —  paused  —  then  looked  straight 
at  the  fine  young  man  who  was  evidently  so  glad  to  see 
him. 

"  Look  here,  Hewson  —  I'll  tell  you  something  — 
keep  it  to  yourself!  There'll  be  a  lady  in  that  proces- 
sion to-morrow  whom  I  don't  want  knocked  about.  I 
shall  be  here.  Is  there  anything  you  can  do  to  help 
me?  I  shall  try  and  get  her  out  of  the  crowd.  Cf 
course  I  shall  have  a  motor  here." 

Hewson  looked  puzzled,  but  eager.  He  described 
where  he  was  likely  to  be  stationed,  and  where  Win- 
nington would  probably  find  him.  If  Mr.  Winnington 
would  allow  him,  he  would  tip  a  wink  to  a  couple  of 
mates,  who  could  be  trusted  —  and  if  he  could  do  any- 
thing to  help,  why,  he  would  be  "  rare  pleased  "  to  do 
it. 

"  But  I'm  afraid  it'll  be  a  bad  row,  Sir.  There's  a 
lot  of  men  coming  —  from  Whitcchapel  —  they   say." 

Winnington  nodded  and  walked  on.  He  went  to  his 
club,  and  dined  there,  refusing  a  friend's  invitation  to 
go  and  dine  with  him  at  home.  And  after  dinner,  as 
the  best  means  of  solitude,  he  went  out  again  into  the 
crowded  streets,  walking  aimlessly.  The  thought  of 
Delia  arrested  —  refused  bail  —  in  a  police  cell  —  or  in 
prison  —  tormented  him.  All  the  traditional,  fastid- 
ious instincts  of  his  class  and  type  were  strong  in  him. 
He  loathed  the  notion  of  any  hand  laid  upon  her,  of 
any  rough  contact  between  her  clean  youth,  and  the 


Delia  Blanchflower  325 

brutalities  of  a  London  crowd.  His  blood  rushed  at 
the  thought  of  it.  The  mere  idea  of  any  insult  offered 
her  made  him  murderous. 

He  turned  down  Whitehall,  and  at  a  corner  near 
Dover  House  he  presently  perceived  a  small  crowd 
which  was  being  addressd  by  a  woman.  She  had  brought 
a  stool  with  her,  and  was  standing  on  it.  A  thin  slip 
of  a  girl,  with  a  childish,  open  face  and  shrill  voice. 
He  went  up  to  listen  to  her,  and  stood  amazed  at  the 
ignorant  passion,  the  reckless  violence  of  what  she  was 
saying.  It  seemed  indeed  to  have  but  little  effect  upon 
her  hearers.  Men  joined  the  crowd  for  a  few  minutes, 
listened  with  upturned  impassive  faces,  and  went  their 
way.  A  few  lads  attempted  horse-play,  but  stopped  as 
a  policeman  approached ;  and  some  women  carrying 
bundles  propped  them  against  a  railing  near,  and  waited, 
lifting  tired  eyes,  and  occasionally  making  comments 
to  each  other.  Presently,  it  appeared  to  Winnington 
that  the  speaker  was  no  more  affected  by  her  own 
statements  —  appalling  as  some  of  them  were  —  than 
her  hearers.  She  appeared  to  be  speaking  from  a  book 
—  to  have  just  learnt  a  lesson.  She  was  then  a  paid 
speaker?  And  yet  he  thought  not.  Every  now  and 
then  phrases  stood  out  —  fiercely  sincere  —  about  the 
low  wages  of  women,  their  exclusion  from  the  skilled 
trades,  the  marriage  laws,  the  exploiting  and  *'  selling  " 
of  women,  and  the  like.  And  always,  in  the  background 
of  the  girl's  picture,  the  hungry  and  sensual  appetites 
of  men,  lying  in  wait  for  the  economic  and  physical 
weakness  of  the  woman. 

He  waited  until  she  had  finished.  Then  he  helped 
her  down  from  her  perch,  and  made  a  way  for  her 
through  the  crowd.     She  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 


326 


Delia  Blanchflower 


"  Thank  you,  Sir, —  don't  trouble !     Last  night  I  was 
pelted  with  filth.     Are  you  one  of  us?  " 

He  shook  his  head,  smiling. 

"  I  didn't  agree  with  you.  I  advise  you  to  look  up 
some  of  those  things  you  said.  But  you  speak  very 
well.     Good-night." 

She  looked  at  him  angrily,  gathered  up  her  skirt  with 
a  rattle,  in  a  small  hand,  and  disappeared. 

He  presently  turned  back  towards  Buckingham  Gate, 
and  in  a  narrow  Westminster  street,  as  he  passed  the 
side  of  a  high  factory  building,  suddenly  there  emerged 
from  a  door-way  a  number  of  women  and  girls,  who 
had  evidently  been  working  over-time.  Some  of  them 
broke  at  once  into  loud  talk  and  laughter,  as  though 
in  reaction  from  the  confinement  and  tension  of  their 
work,  some  —  quite  silent  —  turned  their  tired  faces  to 
him  as  they  passed  him ;  and  some  looked  boldly,  pro- 
vocatively at  the  handsome  man,  who  on  his  side  was 
clearly  observing  them.  'Bhey  were  of  all  types,  but 
the  majority  of  the  quite  3'oung  girls  were  pale  and 
stunted,  shewing  the  effect  of  long  hours,  and  poor  food. 
The  coarse  or  vicious  faces  were  few ;  many  indeed  were 
marked  by  a  modest  or  patient  gentleness.  The  thin 
line  of  hurrying  forms  disappeared  into  darkness  and 
distance,  some  one  way,  some  another ;  and  Winnington 
was  left  to  feel  that  in  what  he  had  seen  —  this  every- 
day incident  of  a  London  street  —  he  had  been  aptly 
reminded  of  what  a  man  who  has  his  occupation  and 
dwelling  amid  rural  scenes  and  occupations  too  readily 
forgets  —  that  toiling  host  of  women,  married  and  un- 
married, which  modern  industry  is  every  day  using,  or 
devouring,  or  wasting.  The  stream  of  lives  rushes  day 
by  day  through  the  industrial  rapids ;  some  of  it  pass- 
ing on  to  quiet  and  fruitful  channels  beyond  the  roar, 


Delia  Blanchflower  327 

and  some  lost  and  churned  for  ever  in  the  mam  tumult 
of  the  river. 

This  new  claim  upon  women,  on  the  part  of  society, 
in  addition  to  the  old  claims  of  home  and  motherhooci 
—  this  vast  industrial  claim  —  must  it  not  change  and 
modify  everything  in  time?  —  depress  old  values,  create 
new  ?  "  The  vote !  —  give  us  the  vote !  and  all  will  be 
well.  More  wages,  more  food,  more  joy,  more  share  in 
this  glorious  world  !  —  that's  what  the  vote  means  — 
give  us  the  vote !  "  Such,  in  effect,  had  been  the  cry 
of  that  half-mad  speaker  in  Whitehall,  herself  marked 
and  injured  by  the  economic  struggle. 

The  appeal  echoed  in  Winnington's  heart.  And 
Delia  seemed  to  be  at  his  side,  raising  her  eager  eyes  to 
his,  pressing  him  for  admission.  Had  he,  indeed, 
thought  enough  of  these  things  ?  —  taken  enough  to 
heart  this  new  and  fierce  struggle  of  women  with  life 
and  circumstance,  that  is  really  involved  in  the  Indus- 
trial organisation  of  the  modern  world? 

He  passed  on  —  up  Buckingham  Gate,  towards  the 
Palace.  Turning  to  the  left,  he  was  soon  aware  of  two 
contrasted  things :  —  an  evening  party  going  on  at  a 
well-known  Embassy,  cars  driving  up  and  putting  down 
figures  In  flashing  dresses,  and  gold-encrusted  uniforms, 
emerging,  and  disappearing  within  its  open  doors  —  and 
only  twenty  yards  away,  a  group  of  women  huddled 
together  in  the  cold,  outside  a  closed  fish-shop,  waiting 
to  buy  for  a  few  pence  the  broken  or  spoiled  fish  of  the 
day.  But  a  little  further  on  he  suddenly  plunged  into 
a  crowd  coming  down  Grosvenor  Place.  He  stopped  to 
watch  it,  and  saw  that  it  accompanied  a  long  procession 
of  men  tramping  back  from  Hyde  Park.  A  banner  held 
by  the  leaders  bore  the  words  — •*'  Unemployed  and 
starving!     Give  us  work  or  bread."     And  Winnington 


328 


Delia  Blanchfiower 


remembered  there  was  a  docker's  strike  going  on  in 
Limehouse,  passionately  backed  and  defended  by  the 
whole  body  of  the  local  clergy. 

His  eyes  examined  the  faces  and  forms  in  the  proces- 
sion. Young  and  old,  sickly  and  robust,  they  passed 
him  by,  all  of  them  marked  and  branded  by  their  tyrant, 
Labour ;  rolled  like  the  women  amid  the  rocks  and  whirl- 
pools of  the  industrial  stream ;  marred  and  worn  like 
them,  only  more  deeply,  more  tragically.  The  hollow 
eyes  accused  him  as  they  passed  —  him,  with  his  ease 
of  honoured  life.  "  What  have  you  made  of  us,  your 
brethren  ?  —  3'ou  who  have  had  the  lead  and  the  start !  — 
you  who  have  had  till  now  the  fashioning  of  this  world 
in  which  we  suffer!  What  is  wrong  with  the  world? 
We  know  no  more  than  you.  But  it  is  your  business  to 
know !  For  God's  sake,  you  who  have  intelligence  and 
education,  and  time  to  use  them,  think  for  us !  —  think 
with  us  !  —  find  a  way  out !     More  wages  —  more  food 

—  more  leisure  —  more  joy!  —  By  G — d!  we'll  have 
them,  or  bring  down  your  world  and  ours  in  one  ruin 
together !  " 

And  then  far  back,  from  the  middle  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, there  came  to  Winnington's  listening  mind  the 
cry  of  the  founders  of  English  democracy.     "  The  vote ! 

—  give  us  the  vote !  —  and  bring  in  the  reign  of  plenty 
and  of  peace."     And  the  vote  was  given.      Sixty  years 

—  and  still  this  gaunt  procession !  —  and  all  through 
Industrial  England,  the  same  unrest,  the  same  bitter- 
ness ! 

The  vote?  What  is  it  actually  going  to  mean,  in 
struggle  for  life  and  happiness  that  lies  before  every 
modern  Community?  How  many  other  methods  and 
forces  have  already  emerged,  and  must  yet  emerge, 
beside    it !     The    men    know    it.     And    meanwhile,    the 


Delia  Blanchflower  329 

women  —  a  section  of  women  —  have  seized  with  the  old 
faith,  on  the  confident  cries  of  sixty  years  ago  ?  —  with 
the  same  disillusion  Avaiting  in  the  path? 

He  passed  on,  drawn  again  down  Constitution  Hill, 
and  the  Mall,  back  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament  and 
the  River.  .  .  .  The  night  was  clear  and  frosty.  He 
paused  on  Westminster  Bridge,  and  leant  over  the  par- 
apet, feasting  his  eyes  on  that  incomparable  scene  which 
age  cannot  wither  nor  custom  stale  for  the  heart  of  an 
Englishman.  The  long  front  of  the  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment rose  darkly  over  the  faintly  moonlit  river;  the 
wharves  and  houses  beyond,  a  medley  of  strong  or  deli- 
cate line,  of  black  shadow  and  pale  lights,  ran  far  into  a 
vaporous  distance  powdered  with  lamps.  On  the  other 
side  St.  Thomas's  Hospital,  and  an  answering  chain  of 
lamps,  far-flung  towards  Battersea.  Between,  the  river, 
heaving  under  a  full  tide,  with  the  dim  barges  and  tugs 
passing  up  and  down.  "  The  Mississippi,  Sir,  is  dirty 
water  —  the  St.  Lawrence  is  cold,  dirty  water  —  but  the 
Thames,  Sir,  is  liquid  'istory !  "  That  famous  mot  of  a 
Labour  INIinister  delighted  Mark's  dreaming  sense.  The 
river  indeed  as  it  flowed  by,  between  buildings  new  and 
old,  seemed  to  be  bearing  the  nation  on  its  breast,  to 
symbolise  the  ever-renewed  life  of  a  great  people.  What 
tasks  that  life  had  seen  !  —  what  vaster  issues  it  had  still 
to  see !  — 

And  in  that  dark  building,  like  a  coiled  and  secret 
spring  ready  to  act  when  touched,  the  Idea  which  ruled 
that  life,  as  all  life,  in  the  end,  is  ruled.  On  the  mor- 
row, a  few  hundred  men  would  flock  to  that  building,  as 
the  representatives  and  servants  of  the  Idea  —  of  that 
England  which  lives  "  while  we  believe." 

And  the  vote  behind  them  ?  —  the  political  act  which 
chose  and  sent  them  there.''     Its  social  power,  and  all  its 


330  Delia  Blanchflower 

ordinary  associations,  noble  or  ignoble,  seemed  suddenly 
to  vanish,  for  Winnington,  engulfed  in  something  infi- 
nitely greater,  something  vital  and  primitive,  on  which 
all  else  depended. 

He  hung,  absorbed,  over  the  sliding  water,  giving  the 
rein  to  reverie.  He  seemed  to  see  the  English  Spirit, 
hovering,  proudly  watchful,  above  that  high  roof  beside 
the  dark  water-way,  looking  out  to  sea,  and  across  the 
world.  What  indomitable  force,  what  ichor  gleaming 
fire,  through  the  dark  veins  of  that  weary  Titan,  sus- 
tained him  there  ?  —  amid  the  clash  of  alien  an- 
tagonisms, and  the  mysterious  currents  of  things? 
What  but  the  lavished  blood  and  brain  of  England's 
sons  ?  —  that  rude  primal  power  that  men  alone  can 
bring  to  their  country? 

Let  others  solve  their  own  problems !  But  can  women 
share  the  male  tasks  that  make  and  keep  us  a  Nation, 
amid  a  jarring  and  environing  host  of  Nations?  —  an 
Empire,  with  the  guardianship  of  half  the  world  on  its 
shoulders?  And  if  not,  how  can  men  rightly  share  with 
women  the  act  which  controls  those  tasks,  and  chooses 
the  men  to  execute  them? 

And  yet !  —  all  his  knowledge  of  human  life,  all  his 
tenderness  for  human  suffering,  rushed  in  to  protest 
that  the  great  question  was  only  half  answered,  when 
it  was  answered  so.  He  seemed  to  see  the  Spirit  of 
England,  Janus-like,  two-faced,  with  one  aspect  look- 
ing out  to  sea,  the  other,  brooding  over  the  great  city 
at  its  feet,  and  turned  inland  towards  the  green  coun- 
try and  studded  towns  beyond.  And  as  to  that  other, 
that  home-face  of  England,  his  dreaming  sense  scarcely 
knew  whether  it  was  man  or  woman.  There  was  in  it 
male  power,  but  also  virgin  strength,  and  mother  love. 
Men  and  women*  might  turn  to  it  equally  —  for  help. 


Delia  Blanchflower  331 

No  need  for  women  in  the  home  tasks  —  the  national 
house-keeping  of  this  our  England?  He  laughed — - 
like  France  —  at  the  mere  suggestion  of  the  doubt. 
Why,  that  teeming  England,  north  and  south,  was  cry- 
ing out  for  the  work  of  women,  the  help  of  women ! 
Who  knew  it  better  than  he  ?  But  call  in  thought !  — 
call  in  intelligence !  Find  out  the  best  way  to  fit  the 
work  to  the  organism,  the  organism  to  the  work.  What 
soil  so  rich  as  England  in  the  seed  of  political  ideas.'' 
What  nation  could  so  easily  as  we  evolve  new  forms  out 
of  the  old  to  fit  new  needs? 

But  what  need  for  patience  in  the  process  —  for  tol- 
erance —  for  clear  thinking !  And  while  England  pon- 
ders, bewildered  by  the  very  weight  of  her  own  load, 
and  its  responsibilities,  comes,  suddenly,  this  train  of 
Maenads  rushing  through  the  land,  shrieking  and  de- 
stroying. 

He  groaned  in  spirit,  as  he  thought  of  Delia's  look 
that  day  —  of  the  tragic-comic  crowd  around  her. 
Again  his  thoughts  flew  hither  and  thither,  seeking  to 
excuse,  to  understand  her,  and  always,  as  it  seemed, 
with  her  dear  voice  in  his  ears  —  trembling  —  rushing 
—  with  the  passionate  note  he  knew. 

"  Mr.  Winnington  !  " 

He  looked  up.  An  elderly  woman,  plain-featured,  ill- 
dressed,  stood  beside  him,  her  kind  eyes  blinking  under 
the  lamp  overhead.  He  recognised  Miss  Dempsey,  and 
grasped  her  by  the  hand. 

"  My  dear  lady,  where  have  you  sprung  from?  " 

She  hesitated,  and  then  said,  supporting  herself  on 
the  parapet  of  the  bridge,  as  though  thankful  for  the 
momentary  rest. 

"  I  had  to  go  in  scarcli  of  someone." 


33^  Delia  Blanchflower 

He  knew  very  well  what  she  meant. 

"  You've  found  her?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Can  anyone  help  ?  " 

"  No.  The  poor  thing's  safe  —  with  good  people 
who  understand." 

He  asked  no  more  about  her  errand.  He  knew  very 
well  that  day  after  day,  and  week  after  week,  her  tired 
feet  carried  her  on  the  same  endless  quest  —  seeking 
"  that  which  was  lost."  But  the  stress  of  thought  in 
his  own  mind  found  expression  in  a  question  which  sur- 
prised her. 

"  Would  the  vote  help  you  ?  Is  that  why  you  want 
it?" 

She  smiled. 

"  Oh,  no  !  Oh,  dear  no !  "  she  said,  with  emphasis ; 
after  a  moment,  adding  in  a  lower  tone,  scarcely  ad- 
dressed to  her  companion  — "  '  It  cost  more  —  to  redeem 
their  souls!  '  "  And  again  — "  Dear  Mr.  Mark,  men  are 
what  their  mothers  make  them !  —  that  is  the  bottom 
truth.  And  when  women  are  what  God  intended  them 
to  be,  they  will  have  killed  the  ape  and  the  tiger  in 
men.  But  law  can't  do  it.  Only  the  Spirit."  Her 
face  shone  a  little.  Then,  in  her  ordinary  voice  — "  Oh, 
no  —  I  want  the  vote  for  quite  other  reasons.  It  is 
our  right  —  and  it  is  monstrous  we  shouldn't  have  it !  " 
Her  cheeks  flushed. 

He  turned  his  friendly  smile  upon  her,  without  at- 
tempting to  argue.  They  walked  back  over  the  bridge 
together. 

The  following  day  rose  in  wind  and  shower.  But  the 
February  rain  cleared  away  towards  noon,  and  the  high 
scudding  clouds,  with  bright  spaces  between,  suddenly 


Delia  Blanchflower  333 

began  to  prophesy  Spring.  From  Hyde  Park,  down  the 
Mall,  and  along  Whitehall,  the  troops  gathered  and  the 
usual  crowd  sprang  up  in  their  rear,  pressing  towards 
Parliament  Square,  or  lining  the  route.  Winnington 
had  sent  a  note  early  to  Delia  by  messenger ;  but  he  ex- 
pected no  reply,  and  got  none.  All  he  could  do  was  to 
hide  a  motor  in  Dean's  Yard,  to  hold  a  conference  or 
two  with  the  friendly  bobby  in  Parliament  Square,  and 
then  to  wander  about  the  streets  looking  restlessly  at  the 
show.  It  duly  passed  him  by,  the  Cinderella-coach,  with 
the  King  and  Queen  of  fairy-tale,  the  splendid  Embassy 
carriages,  the  Generals  on  their  gleaming  horses,  the 
Guards,  in  their  red  cloaks  —  and  all  the  rest.  The 
Royalties  disappeared  up  the  carpeted  stairs  into  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  after  half  an  hour,  while  the  bells 
of  St.  Margaret's  filled  all  the  air  ^vith  tumult,  came  out 
again ;  and  again  the  ermined  Queen,  and  the  glistening 
King  passed  bowing  along  the  crowd.  Winnington 
caught  hold  of  a  Hampshire  member  in  the  crowd. 

"When  does  the  House  meet.''" 

"Everything  adjourned  till  four.  They'll  move  the 
Address  about  five.     But  everyone  expects  a  row." 

Nothing  for  it  but  to  wait  and  stroll,  to  spend  half 
an  hour  in  the  Abbey,  and  take  a  turn  along  the  Em- 
bankment. .  .  .  And  gradually,  steadily  the  Square 
filled  up,  no  one  knew  how.  The  soldiers  disappeared, 
but  policemen  quietly  took  their  places.  All  the  en- 
trances to  the  House  of  Commons  were  carefull}^ 
guarded,  groups  as  they  gathered  were  dispersed,  and 
the  approaches  to  the  House,  in  Old  and  New  Palace 
Yards,  were  rigorously  kept  free.  But  still  the  crowd 
in  Parliament  Square  grew  and  thickened.  Girls,  with 
smiling  excited  faces,  still  moved  to  and  fro  in  it,  sell- 
ing the  Tocsin.     Everybody  waited  expectant. 


334  Delia  Blanchflower 

Then  the  chimes  of  the  Abbey  struck  four.  And  as 
they  died  away,  from  a  Westminster  street,  from  White- 
hall, and  from  Milbank,  there  arose  a  simultaneous  stir 
and  shouting.  And  presently,  from  each  quarter  ap- 
peared processions  of  women,  carrying  black  and  orange 
banners  making  their  way  slowly  through  the  throng. 
The  crowd  cheered  and  booed  them  as  they  passed,  sway- 
ing to  this  side  and  that.  And  as  each  procession  neared 
the  outer  line  of  police,  it  was  firmly  but  courteously 
stopped,  and  the  leaders  of  it  must  needs  parley  with  the 
mounted  constables  who  sat  ready  to  meet  them. 

Winnington,  jumping  on  the  motor  which  he  had 
placed  opposite  St.  Margaret's,  drew  out  some  field- 
glasses,  and  scanned  the  advancing  lines  of  women.  The 
detachment  coming  from  Whitehall  seemed  to  be  headed 
by  the  chiefs  of  the  whole  organisation,  to  judge  from 
the  glistening  banner  which  floated  above  its  foremost 
group.  Winnington  examined  it  closely.  Gertrude 
Marvell  was  not  there,  nor  Delia.  Then  he  turned  west- 
wards. Ah,  now  he  saw  her !  That  surely  was  she !  — 
in  the  front  ranks  of  the  lines  coming  from  IMilbank. 
For  a  moment,  he  saw  the  whole  scene  in  orderly  and 
picturesque  array,  the  cordons  of  police,  the  mounted 
constables,  the  banners  of  the  processions,  the  swaying 
crowds,  Westminster  Hall,  the  clock  tower,  with  its 
light :  —  the  next,  everything  was  tossed  in  wild  con- 
fusion. Some  savage  impelling  movement  in  the  crowd 
behind  had  broken  the  lines  of  police.  The  women  were 
through!  He  could  see  the  scurrying  forms  running 
across  the  open  spaces,  pursued,  grappled  with. 

He  threw  himself  into  the  crowd,  which  had  rapidly 
hemmed  him  in,  buffeting  it  from  side  to  side  like  a 
swimmer  into  troubled  waters.  His  height,  his  strength, 
served  him  well,  and  by  the  time  he  had  reached  the 


Delia  Blanchflower  335 

southern  corner  of  St.  Margaret's,  a  friendly  hand 
gripped  him. 

"  Do  you  see  her,  Sir?  " 

"  Near  the  front !  —  coming  from  Milbank." 

"All  right!     Follow  me.  Sir.     This  way!" 

And  with  Hewson,  and  apparently  two  other  po- 
lice, Winnington  battled  his  way  towards  the  tumult 
in  front  of  St.  Stephen's  entrance.  The  mounted  po- 
lice were  pressing  the  crowd  back  with  their  horses, 
and  as  Winnington  emerged  into  clear  ground,  he  saw 
a  melee  of  women  and  police, —  some  women  on  the 
ground,  some  held  between  police  on  either  side,  and 
one  group  still  intact.  In  it  he  recognised  Gertrude 
Marvell.  He  saw  her  deliberatel}^  strike  a  constable 
in  the  face.  Then  he  lost  sight  of  her.  All  he  saw 
were  the  steps  of  St.  Stephen's  entrance  behind,  crowded 
with  Members  of  Parliament.  Suddenly  another  woman 
fell,  a  grey-haired  woman,  and  almost  immediately  a 
girl  who  was  struggling  with  two  policemen,  disengaged 
herself  and  ran  to  help.  She  bent  over  the  woman,  and 
lifted  her  up.  The  police  at  once  made  way  for  them, 
but  another  wild  rush  from  behind  seemed  to  part  them 
—  sweep  them  from  view  — 

"  Now,  Sir !  "  said  Hewson,  on  tiptoe  — "  Hold  on ! 
They've  got  the  old  lady  safe.  I  think  the  young  one's 
hurt." 

Thc}^  pressed  their  way  through.  Winnington 
caught  sight  of  Delia  again,  deadly  white,  supported 
by  a  policeman  on  one  side,  and  a  gentleman  on  the 
other.  Andrews  !  —  by  George  !  Winnington  cursed 
his  own  ill-luck  in  not  having  been  the  first  to  reach 
her ;  but  the  gallant  Captain  was  an  ally  worth  having, 
all  the  same. 

]\Iark  was  at  her  side.      She  lifted  a  face,  all  pain  and 


336 


Delia  Blanchflower 


bitter  indignation.  "  Cowards  —  Cowards  !  —  to  treat 
an  old  woman  so  !  —  Let  me  go  —  let  me  go  back !  I 
must  find  her !  " 

"  She's  all  safe,  Miss  —  she's  all  safe  —  j^ou  go 
home,"  said  a  friendly  policeman.  "  These  gentlemen 
will  look  after  you !  Stand  back  there !  "  And  he  tried 
to  open  a  passage  for  them. 

Winnington  touched  her  arm.  But  an  involuntary 
moan  startled  him.  "  She's  hurt  her  arm  " —  said  An- 
drews in  his  ear  — "  twisted  it  somehow.  Go  to  the 
other  side  of  her  —  put  your  arm  round  her,  and  I'll 
clear  the  way." 

Delia  struggled  — "  No  —  no  !  —  let  me  go  !  " 

But  she  was  powerless.  Winnington  nearly  carried 
her  through  the  crowd,  while  her  faintness  increased. 
By  the  time  they  reached  the  motor,  she  was  barely 
conscious.  The  two  men  lifted  her  in.  Andrews  stood 
looking  at  her  a  moment,  as  she  sank  back  with  Win- 
nington beside  her,  his  ruddy  countenance  expressing 
perhaps  the  most  acute  emotion  of  which  its  possessor 
had  ever  yet  been  capable. 

"  Good-night.  You'll  take  her  home,"  he  said  gruffly, 
and  lifted  his  hat.  But  the  next  moment  he  ran  back  to 
say  — "  I'll  go  back  and  find  out  what's  happened. 
She'll  want  to  know.     Where  are  you  taking  her  ?  " 

"  Smith's  Hotel,"  said  Winnington  — "  to  my  sister." 
And  he  gave  the  order  to  the  chauffeur. 

They  set  out.  Mark  passed  his  arm  round  her  again, 
to  support  her,  and  she  drooped  unconsciously  upon  his 
shoulder.  A  fierce  joy  —  mingled  with  his  wrath  and 
disgust.  This  must  be  —  this  should  be  the  end!  Was 
such  a  form  made  for  sordid  violence  and  strife?  Her 
life  just  breathed  against  his  —  he  could  have  borne 
her  so  for  ever. 


Delia  Blanchflower  337 

But  as  soon  as  they  had  revived  her,  and  she  opened 
her  e^-es  in  Mrs.  ]Matheson's  sitting-room  at  the  hotel, 
she  burst  into  a  cry  of  misery. 

"  Where's  Gertrude !  —  let  me  go  to  her !  Where  am 
1?  " 

As  they  wrestled  with  and  soothed  her,  a  servant 
knocked. 

"  A  gentleman  to  see  you,  Sir,  downstairs." 

Winnington  descended,  and  found  Andrews  —  breath- 
less with  news. 

"  Eighty  women  arrested  —  Miss  jl'.Iarvell  among  the 
ringleaders,  for  all  of  whom  bail  has  been  refused.^ 
While  the  riot  had  been  going  on  in  Parliament  Square, 
another  detachment  of  women  had  passed  along  White- 
hall, smashing  windows  as  they  went.  And  at  the  same 
moment,  a  number  of  shop-windows  had  been  broken  in 
Piccadilly.  The  Prime  ]Minister  had  been  questioned 
in  the  Commons,  and  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang  had  denounced 
the  "  Daughters'  "  organisation,  and  the  mad  campaign 
of  violence  to  which  they  were  committed,  in  an  indig- 
nant speech  much  cheered  by  the  House. 

The  days  that  followed  were  days  of  nightmare  both 
for  Delia  and  those  who  watched  over  her. 

Gertrude  Marvell  and  ten  others  went  to  prison,  with- 
out the  option  of  a  fine.  About  forty  of  the  rank  and 
file  who  refused  to  pay  their  fines,  or  give  surety  for 
good  behaviour,  accompanied  their  leaders  into  duress. 
The  countr}'  rang  with  the  scandal  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  with  angry  debate  as  to  how  to  stop  the 
scandal  in  the  future.  The  Daughters  issued  defiant 
broadsheets,  and  filled  the  Tocsin  with  brave  words. 
And  the  Constitutionalists  who  had  pinned  their  hopes 
on   the    Suffrage   Bill   before   the   House,   wrung   their 


338 


Delia  Blanchflower 


hands,  and  wailed  to  heaven  and  earth  to  keep  these  mad 
women  in  order. 

Delia  sat  waiting  —  waiting  —  all  these  intolerable 
hours.  She  scarcely  spoke  to  Winnington,  except  to 
ask  him  for  news,  or  to  thank  him,  when  every  evening, 
owing  to  a  personal  knowledge  of  the  Home  Secretary, 
he  was  able  to  bring  her  the  very  latest  news  of  what 
was  happening  in  prison.  Gertrude  had  refused  food ; 
forcible  feeding  would  very  soon  have  to  be  aban- 
doned ;  and  her  release,  on  the  ground  of  danger  to 
life,  might  have  to  be  granted.  But  in  view  of  the 
hot  indignation  of  the  public,  the  Government  were  not 
going  to  release  any  of  the  prisoners  before  they  abso- 
lutely must. 

Delia  herself  was  maimed  and  powerless.  How  the 
wrenching  of  her  arm  had  come  about  —  whether  in  the 
struggle  with  the  two  constables  who  had  separated  her 
from  Gertrude,  or  in  the  attempt  to  raise  her  companion 
from  the  ground  —  she  could  not  now  remember.  But 
a  muscle  had  been  badly  torn ;  she  wore  a  sling  and  suf- 
fered constant  and  often  severe  pain.  Neither  Alice 
Matheson,  nor  Lady  Tonbridge  —  who  had  rushed  up 
to  town  —  ever  heard  her  complain,  except  involun- 
tarily, of  this  pain.  Madeleine  indeed  believed  that 
there  was  some  atoning  satisfaction  in  it,  for  Delia's 
wounded  spirit.  If  she  was  not  with  Gertrude  in  prison, 
at  least  she  too  was  suffering  —  if  only  a  fraction  of 
what  Gertrude  was  enduring. 

The  arai  however  was  not  the  most  serious  matter. 
As  France  had  long  since  perceived,  she  had  been  over- 
strained in  nursing  Weston,  and  the  events  since  she  left 
JNlaumsey  had  naturally  increased  the  mischief.  She 
had  become  sleepless  and  neurasthenic.  And  Winning- 
ton  watched  day  by  da}^  the  eclipse  of  her  radiant  3^outh, 


Delia  Blanchflower  339 

with  a  dumb  wrath  almost  as  Pagan  as  that  which  a 
similar  impression  had  roused  in  Lathrop. 

The  niffhts  were  her  worst  time.  She  lived  then,  in 
prison,  with  Gertrude,  vividly  recalling  all  that  she  had 
ever  heard  from  the  Daughters  who  had  endured  it,  of 
the  miseries  and  indignities  of  prison  life.  But  she  also 
lived  again  through  the  events  which  had  preceded  and 
followed  the  riot;  her  quick  intelligence  pondered  the 
comments  of  the  newspapers,  the  attitude  of  the  public, 
the  measured  words  and  looks  of  these  friends  who  sur- 
rounded her.  And  there  were  many  times  when  sitting 
up  in  bed  alone,  suffering  and  sleepless,  she  asked  herself 
bitterly — "  Avere  we  just  fools!  —  just  fools?" 

But  whatever  the  mind  replied,  the  heart  and  its 
loyalty  stood  firm.  She  was  no  more  free  now  than 
before  —  that  was  the  horrible  part  of  it !  It  was  this 
which  divided  her  from  Winnington.  The  thought  of 
how  he  had  carried  her  off  from  the  ugly  or  ridiculous 
scenes  which  the  newspapers  described  —  scenes  of  which 
she  had  scarcely  any  personal  memory,  alternately 
thrilled  and  shamed  her.  But  the  aching  expectation  of 
Gertrude's  return  —  the  doubt  in  what  temper  of  mind 
and  what  plight  of  body  she  would  return  —  dominated 
everj'thing  else. 

At  last  came  the  expected  message.  "  In  consequence 
of  a  report  from  the  prison  doctors  and  his  own  medical 
advisers,  the  Home  Secretary  has  ordered  the  immediate 
release  of  Miss  Gertrude  Marvell."  Winnington  was 
privately  notified  of  the  time  of  release,  information 
which  was  refused  to  what  remained  of  the  Daughters' 
organisation,  lest  there  should  be  further  disturbance. 
He  took  a  motor  to  the  prison  gate,  and  put  a  terribly 
enfeebled  woman  and  her  nurse  into  it.  Gertrude  did 
not  even  recognise  him,  and  he  followed  the  motor  to  the 


340  Delia  Blanchflower 

Westminster  flat,  distracted  by  the  gloomiest  forebod- 
ings. 

Delia  was  already  at  the  flat  to  receive  her  friend, 
having  quietly  —  but  passionately  —  insisted,  against 
all  the  entreaties  of  Mrs.  Matheson  and  Lady  Ton- 
bridge.  Winnington  helped  the  nurse  and  the  porter  to 
carry  Gertrude  Marvell  upstairs.  They  laid  her  on  the 
bed,  and  the  doctor  who  had  been  summoned  took  her 
in  charge.  As  he  was  leaving  the  room,  Winnington 
turned  back  —  to  look  at  his  enemy.  How  far  more 
formidable  to  him  in  her  weakness  than  in  her  strength ! 
The  keen  eyes  were  closed,  the  thin  mouth  relaxed  and 
bloodless  shewing  the  teeth,  the  hands  mere  skin  and 
bone.  She  lay  helpless  and  only  half-conscious  on  her 
pillows,  with  nurse  and  doctor  hovering  round  her,  and 
Delia  kneeling  beside  her.  Yet,  as  he  closed  the  door, 
Winnington  realised  her  power  through  every  vein !  It 
rested  entirely  with  her  whether  or  no  she  would  destroy 
Delia,  as  she  must  in  the  end  destroy  herself. 

He  waited  in  the  drawing-room  for  Delia.  She  came 
at  last,  with  a  cold  and  alien  face.  "  Don't  come  again, 
please !  Leave  us  to  ourselves.  I  shall  have  doctors  — 
and  nurses.     We'll  let  you  know." 

He  took  her  hands  tenderly.  But  she  drew  them 
away  —  shivering  a  little. 

"  You  don't  know  —  you  can't  know  —  what  it  means 
to  me  —  to  us  —  to  see  what  she  has  suffered.  There 
must  be  no  one  here  but  those  —  who  sympathise  — 
who  won't  reproach "     Her  voice  failed  her. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  go. 


Chapter  XVIII 

GREAT  is  the  power  of  martyrdom !  —  of  the  false 
no  less  than  the  true  —  and  whether  the  mmd  con- 
sent or  no. 

During  the  first  week  of  Gertrude  ^Marvell's  re- 
covery —  or  partial  recovery  —  from  her  prison  ordeal, 
both  Winnington  and  Delia  realised  the  truth  of  this 
commonplace  to  the  full.  Winnington  was  excluded 
from  the  flat.  Delia,  imprisoned  within  it,  was  dragged, 
day  by  day,  through  deep  waters  of  emotion  and  pity. 
She  envied  the  heroism  of  her  friend  and  leader ;  despised 
herself  for  not  having  been  able  to  share  it ;  and  could 
not  do  enough  to  soothe  the  nervous  suffering  which 
Gertrude's  struggle  with  law  and  order  had  left  behind 
it. 

But  with  the  beginning  of  the  second  week  some 
strange  facts  emerged.  Gertrude  was  then  sufficiently 
convalescent  to  be  moved  into  the  drawing-room,  to  see  a 
few  visitors,  and  to  exchange  experiences.  All  who  came 
belonged  to  the  League,  and  had  been  concerned  in  the 
Parliamentary  raid.  Most  of  them  had  been  a  few 
days  or  a  week  in  prison.  Two  had  been  hunger- 
strikers.  And  as  they  gathered  round  Gertrude  in  half- 
articulate  worship,  Delia,  passing  from  one  revealing 
moment  to  another,  suddenly  felt  herself  supei*fluous  — 
thrust  away!  She  could  not  join  in  their  talk  except 
perfunctorily ;  the  violence  of  it  often  left  her  cold  and 
weary ;  and  she  soon  recognised  half  in  laughter,  half 

341 


342  Delia  Blanchflower 

bitterly,  that,  as  one  who  had  been  carried  out  of  the 
fray,  like  a  naughty  child,  by  her  guardian,  she  stood 
in  the  opinion  of  Gertrude's  visitors,  on  a  level  alto- 
gether inferior  to  that  of  persons  who  had  "  fought  it 
out." 

This,  however,  would  not  have  troubled  her  —  she 
was  so  entirely  of  the  same  opinion  herself.  But  what 
began  to  wound  her  to  the  quick  was  Gertrude's  own 
attitude  towards  her.  She  had  been  accustomed  for 
so  long  to  be  Gertrude's  most  intimate  friend,  to  be 
recognised  and  envied  as  such,  that  to  be  made  to  feel 
day  by  day  how  small  a  hold  —  for  some  mysterious 
reason  —  she  now  retained  on  that  fierce  spirit,  was 
galling  indeed.  Meanwhile  she  had  placed  all  the 
money  realised  by  the  sale  of  her  jewels, —  more  than 
three  thousand  pounds  —  in  Gertrude's  hands  for 
League  purposes ;  her  house  was  practically  Gertrude's, 
and  had  Gertrude  willed,  her  time  and  her  thoughts 
would  have  been  Gertrude's  also.  She  would  not 
let  herself  even  think  of  Winnington.  One  glance 
at  the  emaciated  face  and  frame  beside  her  was  enough 
to  recall  her  from  what  had  otherwise  been  a  heavenly 
wandering. 

But  she  was  naturally  quick  and  shrewd,  and  she 
soon  made  herself  face  the  fact  that  she  was  sup- 
planted. Supplanted  by  many  —  but  especially  by  one. 
]Marion  Andrews  had  not  been  in  the  raid  —  Delia  often 
uneasily  pondered  the  why  and  wherefore.  She  came 
up  to  town  a  week  after  it,  and  was  then  constantly  in 
Gertrude's  room.  Between  Delia,  and  this  iron-faced, 
dark-browed  woman,  with  her  clumsy  dress  and  brusque 
ways,  there  was  but  little  conversation,  Delia  never 
forgot  their  last  meeting  at  Maumsey ;  she  was  often 
filled  with  dire  forebodings  and  suspicions ;  and  as  the 


Delia  Blanchflower  343 

relation  between  Gertrude  and  jNIiss  Andrews  became 
closer,  they  grew  and  multiplied. 

At  last  one  morning  Gertrude  turned  her  back  on 
invalid  ways.  She  got  up  at  her  usual  time ;  she  dis- 
missed her  nurse;  and  in  the  middle  of  the  morning  she 
came  in  upon  Delia,  who,  in  the  desultory  temper  bom 
of  physical  strain,  was  alternately  trying  to  read  Mar- 
shall's "  Economics  of  Industry,"  and  writing  to  Lady 
Tonbridge  about  anything  and  everything,  except  the 
topics  that  really  occupied  her  mind. 

Delia  sprang  up  to  get  her  a  shawl,  to  settle  her  on 
the  sofa.     But  Gertrude  said  impatiently  — 

"  Please  don't  fuss.  I  want  to  be  treated  now  as 
though  I  were  well  —  I  soon  shall  be.  And  anyway  I 
am  tired  of  illness."  And  she  took  a  plain  chair,  as 
though  to  emphasize  what  she  had  said. 

"  I  came  to  talk  to  you  about  plans.  You're  not 
busy !  " 

"  Busy !  "  The  scornful  tone  was  a  trifle  bitter  also, 
as  Gertrude  perceived.  Delia  put  aside  her  book,  and 
her  writing-board,  and  descended  to  her  favourite  place 
on  the  hearth  rug.     The  two  friends  surveyed  each  other. 

"  Gertrude,  it's  absurd  to  talk  as  though  you  were 
well !  "  cried  Delia.     "  You  look  a  perfect  wreck !  " 

But  there  was  more  in  what  she  saw  —  in  what  she 
felt  —  than  physical  wreck.  There  was  a  moral  and 
spiritual  change,  subtler  than  any  physical  injury,  and 
probably  more  permanent.  Gertrude  Marvell  had  never 
possessed  any  "  charm,"  in  the  sense  in  which  other 
leaders  of  the  militant  movement  possessed  it.  A  clear 
and  narrowly  logical  brain,  the  diamond  sharpness  of 
an  astonishing  will,  and  certain  passions  of  hate,  rather 
than  passions  of  love,  had  made  the  strength  of  her 
personality,   and   given   her   an   increasing  ascendancy. 


344  Delia  Blanchflower 

But  these  qualities  had  been  mated  with  a  slender 
physique  —  trim,  balanced,  composed  —  suggesting  a 
fastidious  taste,  and  nerves  perfectly  under  control ;  a 
physique  which  had  given  special  accent  and  emphasis 
to  her  rare  outbreaks  of  spoken  violence.  Refinement, 
seemliness,  "  ladylikeness," —  even  Sir  Robert  Blanch- 
flower  in  his  sorest  moments  would  scarcely  have  denied 
her  these. 

In  a  measure  they  were  there  still,  but  coupled  with 
pathetic  signs  of  some  disintegrating  and  poisonous  in- 
fluence. The  face  which  once,  in  its  pallid  austerity, 
had  not  been  without  beauty,  had  now  coarsened,  even 
in  emaciation.  The  features  stood  out  disproportion- 
ately ;  the  hair  had  receded  from  the  temples ;  some- 
thing ugly  and  feverish  had  been,  as  it  were,  laid  bare. 
And  composure  had  been  long  undermined.  The  nurse 
who  had  just  left  had  been  glad  to  go. 

Gertrude  received  Delia's  remark  with  impatience. 

"  Do  please  let  my  looks  alone !  As  if  you  could 
boast !  "  The  speaker's  smile  softened  as  she  looked  at 
the  girl's  still  bandaged  arm,  and  pale  cheeks.  "  That 
in  fact  is  what  I  wanted  to  say,  Delia.  You  ought  to 
be  going  home.  You  want  the  country  and  the  gar- 
den. And  I,  it  seems  —  so  this  tiresome  Doctor  says  — 
ought  to  have  a  fortnight's  sea." 

"  Oh  — "  said  Delia,  with  a  sudden  flush.  "  So  you 
think  we  ought  to  give  up  the  flat.^*  Why  can't  I  come 
with  you  to  the  sea.''  " 

"  I  thought  you  had  begun  to  do  various  things  — 
cripples  —  and  cottages  —  and  schools  —  for  Mr.  Win- 
nington,"  said  Gertrude,  drily. 

"  I  wanted  to  —  but  Weston's  illness  stopped  it  — 
and  then  I  came  here." 

"  Well,  you  '  wanted  to.'     And  why  shouldn't  you.''  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  345 

There  was  a  silence.  Then  Delia  looked  up  —  very 
pale  now  —  her  head  thrown  back. 

"  So  you  mean  you  wish  to  get  rid  of  me,  Gertrude !  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort.  I  want  you  to  do  —  what 
you  clearly  wish  to  do." 

"  When  have  I  ever  shown  you  that  I  wished  to  de- 
sert you  —  or  —  the  League.''  " 

"  Perhaps  I  read  you  better  than  you  do  yourself," 
said  Gertrude,  slightly  reddening  too.  "  Of  course  you 
have  been  goodness  —  generosity  —  itself.  But  —  this 
cause  wants  more  than  gifts  —  more  than  money  —  it 
wants  a  woman's  self!  " 

"Well.?"  Delia  waited. 

Gertrude  moved  impatiently. 

"  Why  should  we  play  the  hypocrite  with  each  other !  " 
she  said  at  last.  "  You  won't  deny  that  what  jSIr. 
Winnington  thinks  —  what  Mr.  Winnington  feels  —  is 
infinitely  more  important  to  you  now  than  what  any- 
body else  in  the  world  thinks  or  feels  ?  " 

"  Which  I  shewed  by  coming  up  here  against  his  ex- 
press wishes?  —  and  joining  in  the  raid,  after  he  had 
said  all  that  a  man  could  say  against  it,  both  to  you 
and  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  admit  you  did  your  best  —  you  did  your 
best,"  said  Gertrude  sombrely.  "  But  I  know  you, 
Delia  !  —  I  know  you  !  Your  heart's  not  in  it  —  an}' 
more." 

Delia  rose,  and  began  slowly  to  pace  the  room. 
There  was  a  wonderful  virginal  dignity  —  a  suppressed 
passion  —  in  her  attitude,  as  though  she  wrestled  with 
an  inward  wound.  But  she  said  nothing,  except  to 
ask  —  as  she  paused  in  front  of  Gertrude  — 

"  Where  are  you  going  —  and  who  is  going  with 
you?  " 


34^  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  I  shall  go  to  the  sea,  somewhere  —  perhaps  to  the 
Isle  of  Wight.  I  daresay  Marion  Andrews  will  come 
with  me.     She  waiits  to  escape  her  mother  for  a  time." 

"  Marion  Andrews  ?  "  repeated  Delia  thoughtfully. 
Then,  after  a  moment  — "  So  you're  not  coming  down 
to  Maumsey  any  more?  " 

"  Ask  yourself  what  there  Is  for  me  to  do  there,  my 
dear  child !  Frankly,  I  should  find  the  society  of  Mr. 
Winnington  and  Lady  Tonbridge  rather  difficult !  And 
as  for  their  feelings  about  me !  " 

"  Do  you  remember  —  you  promised  to  live  with  me 
for  a  year  ?  " 

"  Under  mental  reservation,"  said  Gertrude,  quietly. 
"  You  know  very  well,  I  didn't  accept  it  as  an  ordinary 
post." 

"  And  now  there's  nothing  more  to  be  got  out  of  me.'' 
Oh,  I  didn't  mean  anything  cruel ! "  added  the  girl 
hastily.     "  I  know  you  must  put  the  cause  first." 

"  And  you  see  where  the  cause  is,"  said  Gertrude 
grimlj'.  "  In  ten  days  from  now  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang  will 
have  crushed  the  bill." 

"  And  everybody  seems  to  be  clamouring  that  we've 
given  them  the  excuse !  " 

Fierce  colour  overspread  Gertrude's  thin  temples  and 
cheeks. 

"  Thej^'ll  take  it,  anyway ;  and  we've  got  to  do  all 
we  can  —  meetings,  processions,  way-laying  Ministers  — 
the  usual  things  —  and  any  new  torment  we  can  devise." 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  going  to  Southsea !  " 

"  Afterwards  —  afterwards  !  "  said  Gertrude,  with 
visible  temper.  "  I  shall  run  down  to  Brighton  to- 
morrow, and  come  back  fresh  on  Monday." 

"  To  this  flat?  " 

"  Oh  no  —  I've  found  a  lodging." 


Delia  Blanchflower  347 

Delia  turned  away  —  her  breath  fluttering. 

"  So  we  part  to-morrow !  "  Then  suddenly  she  faced 
round  on  Gertrude.  "  But  I  don't  go,  Gertrude  —  till 
I  have  your  promise !  " 

"  What  promise?  " 

"  To  let  —  Monk  Lawrence  alone!  "  said  the  girl  with 
sudden  intensity,  and  laying  her  uninjured  hand  on  a 
table  near,  she  stooped  and  looked  Gertrude  in  the  eyes. 

Gertrude  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"  You  little  goose !  Do  you  think  I  look  the  kind  of 
person  for  nocturnal  adventures  ?  —  a  cripple  —  on  a 
stick.?  Yes,  I  know  you  have  been  talking  to  Marion 
Andrews.     She  told  me." 

"  I  warned  ?/om,"  said  Delia,  with  determination  — 
"  which  was  more  to  the  point.  Everything  Mr.  La- 
throp  told  me,  I  handed  on  to  you." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence.  Then  Gertrude  laid 
a  skeleton  hand  upon  the  girl's  hand  —  gripping  it  pain- 
fully. 

"  And  do  you  suppose  —  that  anything  Mr.  Lathrop 
could  say,  or  you  could  say,  could  prevent  my  carrying 
out  plans  that  seemed  to  me  necessary  —  in  this  war!  " 

Delia  gasped. 

"  Gertrude !  —  you  mean  to  do  it !  " 

Gertrude  released  her  —  almost  threw  her  hand  away. 

"  I  have  told  you  why  you  arc  a  fool  to  think  so. 
But  if  you  do  think  so,  go  and  tell  Mr.  Winnington ! 
Tell  him  everything!  —  make  him  enquire.  I  shall  be 
in  town  —  ready  for  the  warrant." 

The  two  faced  each  other. 

"  And  now,"  said  Gertrude  — "  though  I  am  convales- 
cent —  we  have  had  enough  of  this."  She  rose  totter- 
ing —  and  felt  for  her  stick.     Delia  gave  it  her. 

"  Gertrude !  "     It  was  a  bitter  cry  of  crushed  affec- 


348 


Delia  Blanchflower 


tion  and  wounded  trust.  It  arrested  Gertrude  for  a 
moment  on  her  way  to  the  door.  She  turned  in  inde- 
cision—  then  shook  her  head  —  muttered  something 
inarticulate,  and  went. 

That  afternoon  Delia  sent  a  telegram  to  Lady  Ton- 
bridge  who  had  returned  to  Maumsey  — "  Can  you  and 
Nora  come  and  staj^  Avith  me  for  three  months.  I  shall 
be  quite  alone."  She  also  despatched  a  note  to  Winning- 
ton's  club,  simply  to  say  that  she  was  going  home  to- 
morrow. She  had  no  recent  news  of  Winnington's 
whereabouts,  but  something  told  her  that  he  was  still  in 
town  —  still  near  her. 

Then  she  turned  with  energy  to  practical  affairs  — 
arrangements  for  giving  up  the  flat,  dismissing  some 
servants,  despatching  others  to  Maumsey.  She  had 
something  of  a  gift  for  housekeeping,  and  on  this  even- 
ing of  all  others  she  blessed  its  tasks.  When  they  met 
at  dinner,  Gertrude  was  perfectly  placid  and  amiable. 
She  went  to  bed  early,  and  Delia  spent  the  hours  after 
dinner  in  packing,  with  her  maid.  In  the  middle  of  it 
came  a  line  from  Winnington  — "  Good  news  indeed ! 
I  go  down  to  Maumsey  early,  to  see  that  the  Abbey  is 
ready  for  you.  Don't  bother  about  the  flat.  I  have 
spoken  to  the  Agents.  They  will  do  everything.  An 
revoir!  " 

The  commonplace  words  somehow  broke  down  her  self- 
control.  She  sent  away  her  maid,  put  out  the  glaring 
electric  hght,  and  sat  crouched  over  the  fire,  in  the  dark- 
ness, thinking  her  heart  out.  Once  she  sprang  up  sud- 
denly, her  hands  at  her  breast  —  "  Oh  Mark,  jNlark  — 
I'm  coming  back  to  you,  Mark, —  I'm  coming  back  — I'm 
free!  " —  in  an  ecstasy. 

But  only  to  feel  herself  the  next  moment,  quenched  — 


Delia  Blanchflower  349 

coerced  —  her  happiness  dashed  from  her.  If  she  gave 
herself  to  Mark,  her  knowledge,  her  suspicions,  her 
practical  certainty  must  go  with  the  gift.  She  could 
not  keep  from  him  her  growing  belief  that  Monk  Law- 
rence was  vitally  threatened,  and  that  Gertrude,  in  spite 
of  audacious  denials,  was  still  madly  bent  upon  the  plot. 
And  to  tell  him  would  mean  instant  action  on  his  part: 
arrest  —  prison  —  perhaps  death  —  for  this  woman  she 
had  adored,  whom  she  still  loved  with  a  sore,  disillu- 
sioned tenderness.  She  could  not  tell  him !  —  and  there- 
fore she  could  not  engage  herself  to  him.  Had  Ger- 
trude realised  that  ?  —  counted  upon  it  ? 

Xo.  She  must  work  in  other  ways  —  through  jNIr. 
Lathrop  —  through  various  members  of  the  "  Daugh- 
ters "  Executive  who  were  personally  known  to  her. 
Gertrude  must  be  restrained  —  somehow  —  by  those 
who  still  had  influence  with  her. 

The  loneliness  of  that  hour  sank  deep  into  Delia's 
soul.  Never  had  she  felt  herself  so  motherless,  so  for- 
lorn. Her  passion  for  this  elder  woman  during  three 
years  of  fast-developing  youth  had  divided  her  from 
all  her  natural  friends.  As  for  her  relations,  her 
father's  sister,  Elizabeth  Blanchflower,  a  selfish,  eccen- 
tric old  maid,  had  just  acknowledged  her  existence  in 
two  chilly  notes  since  she  returned  to  England ;  while 
Lord  Frederick,  Winnington's  co-executor,  had  in  the 
same  period  written  her  one  letter  of  half-scolding,  half- 
patronising  advice,  and  sent  a  present  of  game  to  Maum- 
sey.  Since  then  she  understood  he  had  been  pursuing 
his  enemy  the  gout  from  "  cure  "  to  "  cure,"  and  "  Mr. 
Mark  "  certainly  had  done  all  the  executor's  work  that 
had  not  been  mere  formality. 

She  had  no  friends,  no  one  who  cared  for  her !  —  ex- 
cept   Winnington  —  her    chilled    heart    glowed    to    the 


350  Delia  Blanchflower 

name!  — Lady  Tonbridge,  and  poor  Weston.  Among 
the  Daughters  she  had  acquaintances,  but  no  intimates. 
Gertrude  had  absorbed  her ;  she  had  lived  for  Gertrude 
and  Gertrude's  ideas. 

And  now  she  was  despised  —  cast  out.  She  tried  to 
revive  in  herself  the  old  crusading  flame  —  the  hot  un- 
questioning belief  in  Women's  Rights  and  Women's 
Wrongs  —  the  angry  contempt  for  men  as  a  race  of 
coarse  and  hypocritical  oppressors,  which  Gertrude  had 
taught  her.  In  vain.  She  sat  there,  with  these  al- 
truistic loves  and  hates  —  premature,  artificial 
things  !  —  drooping  away  ;  conscious  only,  nakedly  con- 
scious, of  the  thirst  for  individual  happiness,  personal 
joy  —  ashamed  of  it  too,  In  her  bewildered  youth!  — 
not  knowing  that  she  was  thereby  best  serving  her  sex 
and  her  race  in  the  fore-ordained  ways  of  destiny.  And 
the  wickedness  of  men?  But  to  have  watched  a  good 
man,  day  by  day,  had  changed  all  the  values  of  the  hu- 
man scene.  Her  time  would  come  again  —  with  fuller 
knowledge  —  for  bitter  loathing  of  the  tyrannies  of 
sex  and  lust.  But  this,  in  the  natural  order,  was  her 
hour  for  hope  —  for  faith.  As  the  night  grew  deeper, 
the  tides  of  both  rose  and  rose  within  her  —  washing  her 
at  last  from  the  shores  of  Desolation.  She  was  going 
home.  Winnlngton  would  be  there  —  her  friend. 
Somehow,  she  would  save  Gertrude.  Somehow  — 
surely  —  she  would  find  herself  in  Mark's  arms  again. 
She  went  to  sleep  with  a  face  all  tears,  but  whether 
for  joy  or  sorrow,  she  could  hardly  have  told. 

Next  morning  Marion  arrived  early,  and  carried 
Gertrude  off  to  Victoria,  en  route  for  Brighton.  Ger- 
trude and  Delia  kissed  each  other,  and  said  Good-bye, 
without  visible  emotion. 


Delia  Blanchflower  351 

"  Of  course  I  shall  come  down  to  plague  you  in  the 
summer,"  said  Gertrude,  and  Delia  laughed  assent  — 
with  Miss  Andrews  standing  by.  The  girl  went  through 
a  spasm  of  solitary  weeping  when  Gertrude  was  finally 
gone;  but  she  soon  mastered  it,  and  an  hour  later  she 
herself  was  in  the  train. 

Oh,  the  freshness  of  the  Februar}'"  day  —  of  the 
spring  breathing  everywhere !  —  of  the  pairing  birds 
and  the  springing  wheat  —  and  the  bright  patches  of 
crocuses  and  snowdrop  in  the  gardens  along  the  line. 
A  rush  of  pleasure  in  the  mere  return  to  the  country 
and  her  home,  in  the  mere  welling  back  of  health,  the 
escape  from  daily  friction,  and  ugly,  violent  thoughts, 
overflowed  all  her  young  senses.  She  was  a  child  on  a 
holiday.  The  nightmare  of  the  Raid  —  of  those  groups 
of  fighting,  dishevelled  women,  ignominiously  overpow- 
ered, of  the  grinning  crowd,  the  agonising  pain  of  her 
arm,  and  the  policeman's  rough  grip  upon  it  —  began 
to  vanish  "  in  black  from  the  skies." 

Until  —  the  train  ran  into  the  long  cutting  half  way 
between  Latchford  and  INIaumsey,  above  which  climbed 
the  steep  woods  of  Monk  Lawrence.  Delia  knew  it 
well.  And  she  had  no  sooner  recognised  it  than  her 
gaiety  fell  —  headlong  —  like  a  shot  bird.  She  waited 
in  a  kind  of  terror  for  the  moment  when  the  train  should 
leave  the  cutting,  and  the  house  come  into  view,  on  its 
broad  terrace  carved  out  of  the  hill.  Yes,  there  it  was, 
far  away,  the  incomparable  front,  with  its  beautiful  ir- 
regularities, and  its  equally  beautiful  symmetries,  with 
its  oriel  windows  flashing  in  the  sun,  the  golden  grey  of 
its  stone  work,  the  delicate  tracery  on  its  tall  twisted 
chimneys,  and  the  dim  purples  of  its  spreading  roofs. 
It  lay  so  gently  in  the  bosom  of  the  woods  which  clasped 
it  round  —  as   though  they  said  — "  See  hovr  we  have 


352  Delia  Blanchflower 

guarded  and  kept  it  through  the  centuries  for  jou,  the 
children  of  to-day." 

The  train  sped  on,  and  looking  back  Delia  could 
just  make  out  a  whitish  patch  on  the  lower  edge  of  the 
woods.  That  was  Mr.  Lathrop's  cottage.  It  seemed 
to  her  vaguely  that  she  had  seen  his  face  in  the  front 
rank  of  the  crowd  in  Parliament  Square;  but  she  had 
heard  nothing  of  him,  or  from  him  since  their  last 
talk.  She  had  indeed  written  him  a  short  veiled  note 
as  she  had  promised  to  do,  after  Gertrude's  first  de- 
nials, repeating  them  —  though  she  herself  disbelieved 
them  —  and  there  had  been  no  reply.  Was  he  at  home  ? 
Had   he  perhaps   discovered   anything  more? 

When  she  alighted  at  Maumsey,  with  her  hand  in 
Winnington's,  the  fresh  colour  in  her  cheeks  had  dis- 
appeared again,  and  he  was  dismayed  anew  at  her 
appearance,  though  he  kept  it  to  himself.  But  when 
she  was  once  more  in  the  familiar  drawing-room,  sitting 
in  her  grandmother's  chair,  obliged  to  rest  while  Lady 
Tonbridge  poured  out  tea  —  Nora  was  improving  her 
French  in  Paris  —  and  Winnington,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  talked  gossip  and  gardening,  without  a  word 
of  anything  that  had  happened  since  they  three  had  last 
met  in  that  room;  when  Weston,  ghostly  but  convales- 
cent, came  in  to  show  herself;  when  Delia's  black  spitz 
careered  all  over  his  recovered  mistress,  and  even  the 
cats  came  to  rub  themselves  against  her  skirts,  it  was 
impossible  not  to  feel  for  the  moment,  tremulously 
happy,  and  strangely  delivered  —  in  this  house  whence 
Gertrude  Marvell  had  departed. 

How  vivid  was  the  impression  of  this  latter  fact  on 
the  other  two  may  be  imagined.  When  Delia  had  gone 
upstairs  to  chat  with  Weston,  Lady  Tonbridge  looked 
at  Winnington  — 


Delia  Blanchflower  353 

"  To  what  do  we  owe  this  crowning  mercy  ?  Who  dis- 
lodged  her? "     Winnington's   glance   was   thoughtful. 

"  I  guess  it  has  been  her  own  doing  entirely-.  But  I 
know  nothing." 

"  Hm. —  Well,  if  I  may  advise,  dear  jNIr.  Mark,  ask 
no  questions.  And  " —  his  old  friend  put  a  hand  on 
his  arm — "May  I  go  on?"  A  smile,  not  very  gay, 
permitted  her. 

"  Let  her  be !  "  she  said  softly,  Avith  a  world  of  sym- 
pathy in  her  clear  brown  eyes.  "  She's  suffered  — 
and  she's  on  edfi-e."  He  laid  his  hand  on  hers,  but  said 
nothing. 

The  days  passed  by.  Winnington  did  as  he  had  been 
told ;  and  Madeleine  Tonbridge  seemed  to  see  that  Delia 
was  dumbly  grateful  to  him.  Meanwhile  in  the  eyes  of 
her  two  friends  she  made  little  or  no  advance  towards 
recapturing  her  former  health  and  strength.  The 
truth,  of  course,  was  that  she  was  consumed  b}'  devour- 
ing and  helpless  anxiety.  She  wrote  to  Lathrop,  post- 
ing the  letter  at  a  distant  village ;  and  received  no  an- 
swer. Then  she  ascertained  that  he  was  not  at  the  cot- 
tage, and  a  casual  line  in  the  Tocsin  informed  her  that 
he  had  been  in  town  taking  part  in  the  foundation  of 
an  "  outspoken  "  newspaper  —  outspoken  on  "  the  fun- 
damental questions  of  sex,  liberty,  and  morals  involved 
in  the  suffrage  movement." 

But  a  letter  addressed  "  To  be  forwarded  "  to  the 
Tocsin  office  produced  no  more  result  than  her  first. 
Meanwhile  she  had  written  imploringly  to  various  prom- 
inent members  of  the  organisation  in  London  pointing 
out  the  effect  on  public  opinion  that  must  be  produced 
all  through  Southern  England  by  any  attack  on  INIonk 
Lawrence.     She  received  two  cold  and  cautious  replies. 


354  Delia  Blanchflower 

It  seemed  to  her  that  the  writers  of  them  were  even 
more  in  the  dark  than  she. 

The  days  ran  on.  The  newspapers  were  full  of  the 
coming  Woman  Suffrage  Bill,  and  its  certain  defeat 
in  the  Commons.  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang  was  leading  the 
forces  hostile  to  the  Suffrage,  and  making  speech  after 
speech  in  the  country  to  cheering  audiences,  denouncing 
the  Bill,  and  the  mad  women  who  had  tried  to  promote 
it  by  a  campaign  of  outrage,  "  as  ridiculous  as  it  was 
criminal."  He  was  to  move  the  rejection  of  it  on  the 
second  reading,  and  was  reported  to  be  triumphantly 
confident  of  the  result. 

Winnington  meanwhile  became  more  and  more  conr 
scious  of  an  abnormal  state  of  nerve  and  brain  in  this 
pale  Delia,  the  shadow  of  her  proper  self,  and  as  the 
hours  went  on,  he  was  presently  for  throwing  all  Made- 
leine's counsels  aside,  and  somehow  breaking  through 
the  girl's  silence,  in  the  hope  of  getting  at  —  and  heal- 
ing —  the  cause  of  it.  He  guessed  of  course  at  a  hun- 
dred things  to  account  for  it  —  at  a  final  breach  be- 
tween her  and  Gertrude  —  at  the  disappointment  of 
cherished  hopes  and  illusions  —  at  a  profound  travail 
of  mind,  partly  moral,  partly  intellectual,  going  back 
over  the  past,  and  bewildered  as  to  the  future.  But  at 
the  first  sign  of  a  change  of  action,  of  any  attempt  to 
probe  her,  on  his  part,  she  was  off  —  in  flight ;  throw- 
ing back  at  him  often  a  look  at  once  so  full  of  pain 
and  so  resolute  that  he  dared  not  pursue  her.  She 
possessed  at  all  times  a  great  personal  dignity,  and  it 
held  him  at  bay. 

He  himself  —  unconsciously  —  enabled  her  to  hold 
liim  at  bay.  Naturally,  he  connected  some  of  the  haunt- 
ing anxiety  he  perceived  with  Monk  Lawrence,  and 
witli  Gertrude  ^larvell's   outrageous   speech  in  Latch- 


Delia  Blanchflower  355 

ford  market-place.  But  he  himself,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  not  greatly  concerned  for  Monk  Lawrence.  Not 
only  he  ■ —  the  whole  neighbourhood  was  on  the  alert, 
in  defence  of  the  famous  treasure-house.  The  outside 
of  the  building  and  the  gardens  were  patrolled  at  night 
by  two  detectives ;  and  according  to  Daunt's  own  em- 
phatic assurance  to  Winnington,  the  house  was  never 
left  without  either  the  Keeper  himself  or  his  niece  in  it, 
to  mount  guard.  They  had  set  up  a  dog,  with  a  bark 
which  was  alone  worth  a  policeman.  And  finally,  Sir 
Wilfrid  himself  had  been  down  to  see  the  precautions 
taken,  had  especially  ordered  the  strengthening  of  the 
side  door,  and  the  provision  of  iron  bars  for  all  the 
ground  floor  windows.  As  to  the  niece,  Eliza  Daunt, 
she  had  not  made  herself  popular  with  the  neighbours 
or  in  the  village;  but  she  seemed  an  efficient  and  man- 
aging woman,  and  that  she  "  kept  herself  to  herself  " 
was  far  best  for  the  safety  of  Monk  Lawrence. 

Whenever  during  these  days  Winnington's  business 
took  him  in  the  Latchford  direction,  so  that  going  or 
coming  he  passed  Monk  Lawrence,  he  would  walk  up 
to  the  Abbey  in  the  evening,  and  in  the  course  of  the 
gossip  of  the  day,  all  the  reassuring  news  he  had  to 
give  would  be  sure  to  drop  out ;  while  Delia  sat  listen- 
ing, her  eyes  fixed  on  him.  And  then,  for  a  time,  the 
shadow  almost  lifted,  and  she  would  be  her  young  and 
natural  self. 

In  this  way,  without  knowing  it,  he  helped  her  to 
keep  her  secret,  and,  intermittentl}',  to  fight  down  her 
fears. 

On  one  of  these  afternoons,  in  the  February  twilight, 
he  had  been  talking  to  both  the  ladies,  describing  inter 
alia  a  brief  call  at  Monk  Lawrence  and  a  chat  with 
Daunt,  when  iVIadeleine  Tonbridge  went  away  to  change 


356  Delia  Blanchflower 

her  walking  dress,  and  he  and  Delia  were  left  alone. 
Winnington  was  standing  in  the  favourite  male  atti- 
tude—  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  back  to  the 
fire;  Delia  was  on  a  sofa  near.  The  firelight  flickered 
on  the  black  and  white  of  her  dress,  and  on  the  face 
which  in  losing  something  of  its  dark  bloom  had  gained 
infinitely  in  other  magic  for  the  eyes  of  the  man  look- 
ing down  upon  her. 

Suddenly  she  said  — 

"  Do  3^ou  remember  when  you  wanted  me  to  say  —  I 
was  sorry  for  Gertrude's  speech  —  and  I  wouldn't?  " 

He  started. 

«  Perfectly." 

"  Well,  I  am  sorry  now.  I  see  —  I  know  —  it  has 
been  all  a  mistake." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his,  very  quietly  —  but  the 
hands  on  her  lap  shook. 

His  passionate  impulse  was  to  throw  himself  at  her 
feet,  and  silence  any  further  humbleness  with  kisses. 
But  he  controlled  himself. 

"  You  mean  —  that  violence  —  has  been  a  mistake?  " 

"Yes  —  just  that.  Oh,  of  course!" — she  flushed 
again  — "  I  am  just  as  much  for  women  —  I  am  just  as 
rebellious  against  their  wrongs  —  as  I  ever  was.  I  shall 
be  a  Suffragist  always.  But  I  see  now  —  what  we've 
stirred  up  in  England.  I  see  now  —  that  we  can't  win 
that  way  —  and  that  we  oughtn't  to  win  that  way." 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a  rather 
muffled  voice  — 

"  I  don't  know  who  else  would  have  confessed  it  — 
so  bravely !  "  His  emotion  seemed  to  quiet  her.  She 
smiled  radiantly. 

"  Does  it  make  you  feel  triumphant  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least !  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  357 

She  held  out  both  hands,  and  he  grasped  them,  smil- 
ing back  —  understanding  that  she  wished  him  to  take 
it  lightly. 

Her  eyes  indeed  now  were  full  of  gaiety  —  light 
swimming  on  depths. 

"  You  won't  be  always  saying  '  I  told  you  so .''  '  " 

"  Is  it  my  way?  " 

"  No.  But  perhaps  it's  cunning  on  your  part.  You 
know  it  pays  better  to  be  generous." 

They  both  laughed,  and  she  drew  her  hands  away. 
In  another  minute,  she  had  asked  him  to  go  on  with 
some  reading  aloud  while  she  worked.  He  took  up  the 
book.  The  blood  raced  in  his  veins.  "  Soon,  soon !  " — 
he  said  to  himself,  only  to  be  checked  by  the  divining 
instinct  which  added  — "  but  not  yet !  " 

Only  a  few  more  daj^s  now,  to  the  Commons  debate. 
Every  morning  the  newspapers  contained  a  crop  of 
"  militant  "  news  of  the  kind  foreshadowed  by  Gertrude 
Marvell  —  meetings  disturbed,  private  parties  raided, 
Ministers  waylaid,  windows  smashed,  and  the  like, 
though  in  none  of  the  reports  did  Gertinide's  own  name 
appear.  Only  two  days  before  the  debate,  a  glorious 
Reynolds  in  the  National  Gallery  was  all  but  hopelessly 
defaced  by  a  girl  of  eighteen.  Feeling  throughout  the 
country  surged  at  a  white-heat.  Delia  said  little  or 
nothing,  but  the  hollows  under  her  eyes  grew  steadily 
darker,  and  her  cheeks  whiter.  Nor  could  Winnington, 
for  all  his  increasing  anxiety,  devote  himself  to  sooth- 
ing or  distracting  her.  An  ugly  strike  in  the  Latch- 
ford  brickfields  against  nonunion  labour  was  giving 
the  magistrates  of  the  country  a  good  deal  of  anxiety. 
Some  bad  outrages  had  already  occurred,  and  Winning- 
ton  was  endeavouring  to  get  a  Board  of  Trade  arbitra- 


358  Delia  Blanchflower 

tion, —  all  of  which  meant  his  being  a  good  deal  away 
from  home. 

Meanwhile  Delia  was  making  a  new  friend.  Easily 
and  simply,  though  no  one  knew  exactly  how,  Susy 
Amberley  had  found  her  way  to  the  heart  of  the  young 
woman  so  much  talked  about  and  so  widely  condemned 
by  the  county.  Her  own  departure  for  London  had 
been  once  more  delayed  by  the  illness  of  her  mother. 
But  the  worst  of  her  own  struggle  was  over  now ;  and 
no  one  had  guessed  it.  She  was  a  little  older,  though 
it  was  hardly  perceptible  to  any  eye  but  her  mothers ; 
a  little  graver ;  in  some  ways  sweeter,  in  others  per- 
haps a  trifle  harder,  like  the  dipped  sword.  Her  dress 
had  become  less  of  a  care  to  her;  she  minded  the  fash- 
ions less  than  her  mother.  And  there  had  opened  be- 
fore her  more  and  more  alluringly  that  world  of  social 
service,  which  is  to  so  many  beautiful  souls  outside 
Catholicism  the  equivalent  of  the  vowed  and  dedicated 
life. 

But  just  as  of  old,  she  guessed  Mark  Winnington's 
thoughts,  and  by  some  instinct  divined  his  troubles. 
He  loved  Delia  Blanchflower ;  that  she  knew  by  a  hun- 
dred signs ;  and  there  were  rough  places  in  his  road, — 
that  too  she  knew.  They  were  clearly  not  engaged ; 
but  their  relation  was  clearly,  also,  one  of  no  ordinary 
friendship.  Delia's  dependence  on  him,  her  new  gen- 
tleness and  docility  were  full  of  meaning  —  for  Susy. 
As  to  the  causes  of  Delia's  depression,  why,  she  had 
lost  her  friend,  or  at  any  rate,  to  judge  from  the  fact 
that  Delia  was  at  Maumsey,  while  Miss  Marvell  re- 
mained, so  report  said,  in  London  —  had  ceased  to 
agree  or  act  with  her.  Susy  divined  and  felt  for  the 
possible  tragedy  involved.  Delia  indeed  never  spoke 
of  the  militant  propaganda ;  but   she   often  produced 


Delia  Blanchflower  359 

on  Susy  a  strange  impression  as  of  someone  listening 
—  through  darkness. 

The  net  result  of  all  these  guessings  was  that  the 
tender  Susy  fell  suddenly  in  love  with  Delia  —  first  for 
Mark's  sake,  then  for  her  own ;  and  became  in  a  few 
days  of  frequent  meetings,  Delia's  small  worshipper 
and  ministering  spirit.  Delia  surrendered,  wondering; 
and  it  was  soon  very  evident  that,  on  her  side,  the 
splendid  creature,  in  her  unrevealed  distress,  pined 
after  all  to  be  loved,  and  by  her  own  sex.  She  told 
Susy  no  secrets,  either  as  to  Winnington,  or  Gertrude; 
but  very  soon,  just  as  Susy  was  certain  about  her, 
so  she  —  very  pitifully  and  tenderly  —  became  certain 
about  Susy.  Susy  loved  —  or  had  once  loved  —  Win- 
nington. And  Delia  knew  very  well,  whom  Winnington 
loved.  The  double  knowledge  softened  all  her  pride  — 
all  her  incipient  jealousy  away.  She  took  Susy  into 
her  heart,  though  not  wholly  into  her  confidence ;  and 
soon  the  two  began  to  walk  the  lonely  country  roads 
together  hand  in  hand.  Susy's  natural  tasks  took  her 
often  among  the  poor.  But  Delia  would  not  go  with 
her.  She  shrank  during  these  days,  with  a  sick  distaste 
from  the  human  world  around  her, —  its  possible  claims 
upon  her.  Her  mind  was  pre-engaged ;  and  she  would 
not  pretend  what  she  could  not  feel. 

This  applied  especially  to  the  folk  on  her  father's 
estate.  As  to  the  neighbours  of  her  own  class,  they 
apparently  shrank  from  her.  She  was  left  coldly  alone. 
No  one  called,  but  Susy,  France  and  his  wife,  and  Cap- 
tain Andrews.  Mrs.  Andrews  indeed  was  loud  in  her 
denunciation  of  Delia  and  all  her  crew.  Her  daughter 
Marion  had  abominably  deserted  all  her  family  duties, 
without  any  notice  to  her  family,  and  was  now  —  ac- 
cording to  a  note  left  behind  —  brazenly  living  in  town 


36o 


Delia  Blanchflower 


with  some  one  or  otlier  of  the  "  crimmals  "  to  whom 
Miss  Blanchflower  of  course,  had  introduced  her.  But 
as  she  had  given  no  address  she  was  safe  from  pursuit. 
]\lrs,  Andrews'  life  had  never  been  so  uncomfortable. 
She  had  to  maid  herself,  and  do  her  own  housekeeping, 
and  the  thing  was  scandalous  and  intolerable.  She 
filled  the  local  air  with  wailing  and  abuse. 

But  her  son,  the  gallant  Captain,  would  not  allow 
any  abuse  of  Delia  Blanchflower  in  his  presence.  He 
had  begun,  indeed,  immediately  after  Delia's  return, 
to  haunt  the  Abbey  so  persistently  that  Madeleine  Ton- 
bridge  had  to  make  an  opportunity  for  a  few  quiet 
words  in  his  ear,  after  which  he  disappeared  disconso- 
late. 

But  he  was  a  good  fellow  at  heart,  and  the  impres- 
sion Delia  had  made  upon  him,  together  with  some 
plain  speaking  on  the  subject  from  Lady  Tonbridge, 
in  the  course  of  a  chance  meeting  in  the  village,  roused 
a  remorseful  discomfort  in  him  about  his  sister.  He 
tried  honestly  to  find  out  where  she  was,  but  quite  in 
vain.  Then  he  turned  upon  his  Mother,  and  told  her 
bluntly  she  was  herself  to  blame  for  her  daughter's 
flight.  "  Between  us,  we've  led  her  a  dog's  life.  Mother, 
there,  that's  the  truth !  All  the  same,  I'm  damned  sorry 
she's  taken  up  with  this  business." 

However,  it  mattered  nothing  to  anybody  whether 
the  Captain  was  "  damned  sorry  "  or  not.  The  hours 
were  almost  numbered.  The  Sunday  before  the  Tues- 
day fixed  for  the  Second  Reading  came  and  went.  It 
was  a  foggy  February  day,  in  which  the  hills  faded 
from  sight,  and  all  the  world  went  grey.  Winnington 
spent  the  afternoon  at  Maumsey.  But  neither  he  nor 
Madeleine  seemed  to  be  able  to  rouse  Delia  during  that 
day   from   a  kind  of  waking  dream  —  which  he  inter- 


Delia  Blanchfiower  361 

preted  as  a  brooding  sense  of  some  catastrophe  to  come. 

He  was  certain  that  her  mind  was  fixed  on  the  di- 
vision ahead  —  the  scene  in  the  House  of  Commons  — 
and  on  the  terror  of  what  the  "  Daughters  " —  Ger- 
trude perhaps  in  the  van  —  might  be  planning  and  plot- 
ting in  revenge  for  it.  His  own  feeling  was  one  of  vast 
relief  that  the  strain  would  be  so  soon  over,  and  his 
own  tongue  loosed.  Monk  Lawrence  was  safe  enough ! 
And  as  for  any  other  attempt  at  vengeance,  he  dis- 
missed the  notion  with  impatient  scorn. 

But  meanwhile  he  said  not  a  word  that  could  have 
jarred  on  any  conviction  or  grief  of  Delia's.  Some- 
times indeed  they  touched  the  great  subject  itself  — 
the  "  movement  "  in  its  broad  and  arguable  aspects ; 
though  it  seemed  to  him  that  Delia  could  not  bear  it 
for  long.  Mind  and  heart  were  too  sore ;  and  her  weary 
reasonableness  made  him  long  for  the  prophetic  furies 
of  the  autumn.  But  always  she  felt  herself  enwrapped 
by  a  tenderness,  a  chivalry  that  never  failed.  Only  be- 
tween her  and  it  —  between  her  and  him  —  as  she  lay 
awake  through  broken  nights,  some  barrier  rose  —  dark 
and  impassable.  She  knew  it  for  the  barrier  of  her 
own  unconquered  fear. 


Chapter  XIX 

ON  this  same  Sunday  night  before  the  date  fixed  for 
the  Suffrage  debate,  a  slender  woman,  in  a  veil 
and  a  waterproof,  opened  the  gate  of  a  small  house  in 
the  Brixton  Road.  It  was  about  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evening.  The  pavements  were  wet  with  rain,  and  a 
gusty  wind  was  shrieking  through  the  smutty  almond 
and  alder  trees  along  the  road  which  had  ventured  to 
put  out  their  poor  blossoms  and  leaves  in  the  teeth  of 
this  February  gale. 

The  woman  stood  and  looked  at  the  house  after  shut- 
ting the  gate,  as  though  uncertain  whether  she  had 
found  what  she  was  looking  for.  But  the  number  453, 
on  the  dingy  door,  could  be  still  made  out  by  the  light 
of  the  street  opposite,  and  she  mounted  the  steps. 

A  slatternly  maid  opened  the  door,  and  on  being 
asked  whether  Mrs.  Marvell  was  at  home,  pointed  curtly 
to  a  dimly  lighted  staircase,  and  disappeared. 

Gertrude  Marvell  groped  her  way  upstairs.  The 
house  smelt  repulsively  of  stale  food,  and  gas  mingled, 
and  the  wailing  wind  from  outside  seemed  to  pursue  the 
visitor  with  its  voice  as  she  mounted.  On  the  second 
floor  landing,  she  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  front  room. 

After  an  interval,  some  shuffling  steps  came  to  the 
door,  and  it  was  cautiously  opened. 

"What's  your  business,  please?" 

"It's  me  —  Gertrude.     Are  you  alone?" 

A  sound  of  astonishment.  The  door  was  opened,  and 
a  woman  appeared.     Her  untidy,  brown  hair,  touched 

362 


Delia  Blanchflower  363 

with  grey,  fell  back  from  a  handsome  peevish  face  of 
an  aquiline  type.  A  delicate  mouth,  relaxed  and  blood- 
less, seemed  to  make  a  fretful  appeal  to  the  spectator, 
and  the  dark  circles  under  the  eyes  shewed  violet  on  a 
smooth  and  pallid  skin.  She  was  dressed  in  a  faded 
tea-gown  much  betrimmed,  covered  up  with  a  dingy 
white  shawl. 

"  Well,  Gertrude  —  so  you've  come  —  at  last !  " — • 
she  said,  after  a  moment,  in  a  tone  of  resentment. 

"  If  you  can  put  me  up  for  the  night  —  I  can  stay. 
I've  brought  no  luggage." 

"  That  doesn't  matter.  There's  a  stretcher  bed. 
Come  in."  Gertrude  Marvell  entered,  and  her  mother 
closed  the  door. 

"  Well,  mother  —  how  are  you?  " 

The  daughter  offered  her  cheek,  which  the  elder 
woman  kissed.     Then  Mrs.  Marvell  said  bitterly  — 

"  Well,  I  don't  suppose,  Gertrude,  it  much  matters 
to  you  how  I  am." 

Gertrude  took  off  her  wet  waterproof,  and  hat,  and 
sitting  down  by  the  fire,  looked  round  her  mother's  bed- 
sitting-room.  There  was  a  tray  on  the  table  with  the 
remains  of  a  meal.  There  were  also  a  large  number  of 
women's  hats,  some  trimmed,  some  untrimmed,  some  in 
process  of  trimming,  lying  about  the  room,  on  the  dif- 
ferent articles  of  furniture.  There  was  a  tiny  dog  in  a 
basket,  which  barked  shrilly  and  feebly  as  Gertrude  ap- 
proached the  fire,  and  there  were  various  cheap  illus- 
trated papers  and  a  couple  of  sixpenny  novels  to  be 
seen  emerging  from  the  litter  here  and  there.  For  tlie 
rest,  the  furniture  was  of  a  squalid  lodging-house  type. 
On  the  chimney-piece  however  was  a  bunch  of  daffodils, 
the  only  fresh  and  pleasing  object  in  the  room. 

To  Gertrude  it  was  as  though  she  had  seen  it  all  be- 


364  Delia  Blanchflower 

fore.  Behind  the  room,  there  stretched  a  succession  of 
its  ghostly  fellows  —  the  rooms  of  her  childhood.  In 
those  rooms  she  could  remember  her  mother  as  a  young 
and  comely  woman,  but  always  with  the  same  slovenly 
dress,  and  the  same  untidy  —  though  then  abundant 
and  beautiful  —  hair.  And  as  she  half  shut  her  eyes 
she  seemed  also  to  see  her  younger  sister  coming  in  and 
out  —  malicious,  secretive  —  with  her  small  turn-up 
nose,  pouting  lips,  and  under-hung  chin. 

She  made  no  reply  to  her  mother's  complaining  re- 
mark. But  while  she  held  her  cold  hands  to  the  blaze 
that  Mrs.  Marvell  stirred  up,  her  e^^es  took  careful  note 
of  her  mother's  aspect.  "  Much  as  usual,"  was  her  in- 
ward comment.  "  Wliatever  happens,  she'll  outlive 
me." 

"  You've  been  going  on  with  the  millinery  ?  "  She 
pointed  to  the  hats.  "  I  hope  j'ou've  been  making  it 
pay." 

"  It  provides  me  with  a  few  shillings  now  and  then," 
said  Mrs.  Marvell,  sitting  heavily  down  on  the  other 
side  of  the  fire  — "  which  Winnie  generally  gets  out  of 
me !  "  she  said  sharply.  "  I  am  a  miserable  pauper 
now,  as  I  always  have  been." 

Gertrude's  look  was  unmoved.  Her  mother  had,  she 
knew,  all  that  her  father  had  left  behind  him  —  no  great 
sum,  but  enough  for  a  solitary  woman  to  live  on. 

"  Well,  anyway,  you  must  be  glad  of  it  as  an  occu- 
pation. I  wish  I  could  help  you.  But  I  haven't  really 
a  farthing  of  my  own,  beyond  the  interest  on  my  £1000. 
I  handle  a  great  deal  of  money,  but  it  all  goes  to  the 
League,  and  I  never  let  them  pay  me  more  than  my  bare 
expenses.  Now  then,  tell  me  all  about  everybody ! " 
And  she  lay  back  in  the  dilapidated  basket-chair  that 
had  been  offered  her,  and  prepared  herself  to  listen. 


Delia  Blanchflower  365 

The  family  chronicle  was  done.  It  was  as  depress- 
ing as  usual,  and  Gertrude  made  but  little  comment 
upon  it.  When  it  was  finished,  Mrs.  Marvell  rose,  and 
put  the  kettle  on  the  fire,  and  got  out  a  couple  of  fresh 
cups  and  saucers  from  a  cupboard.  As  she  did  so,  she 
looked  round  at  her  visitor. 

"  And  you're  as  deep  in  that  militant  business  as 
ever." 

Gertrude  made  a  negligent  sign  of  assent. 
"  Well,  you'll  never  get  any  good  of  it."  The 
mother's  pale  cheek  flushed.  It  excited  her  to  have 
this  chance  of  speaking  her  mind  to  her  clever  and 
notorious  daughter,  whom  in  many  ways  she  secretly 
envied,  while  heartily  disapproving  her  acts  and  opin- 
ions. 

Gertrude  shrugged  her  shoulders. 
"  What's  the  good  of  arguing.?  " 
"  Well,    it's    true " —  said    the    mother,    persisting. 
"  Every  new  thing  you  do,  turns  more  people  against 
you.     Winnie's    a    Suffragist  —  but    she    says    3'ou've 
spoilt  all  their  game !  " 

Gertrude's  eyes  shone ;  she  despised  her  mother's 
opinion,  and  her  sister's  still  more,  and  yet  once  again 
in  their  neighbourhood,  once  again  in  the  old  environ- 
ment, she  could  not  help  treating  them  in  the  old  defiant 
brow-beating  way. 

"  And  you  think,  I  suppose,  that  Winnie  knows  a 
good  deal  about  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  knows  what  everybody's  saying  —  in  the 
trams  —  and  the  trains  everywhere.     Hundreds  of  them 
that  used  to  be  for  you  have  turned  over." 
"  Let  them !  " 

The  contemptuous  tone  irritated  Mrs.  Marvell.  But 
at  the  same  time  she  could  not  help  admiring  her  eldest 


366  Delia  Blanchflower 

daugliter,  as  she  sat  there  in  the  fire-light,  her  quiet 
well-cut  dress,  her  delicate  hands  and  feet.  It  was  true 
indeed,  she  was  a  scarce-crow  for  thinness,  and  looked 
years  older  — "  somehow  gone  to  pieces  " —  thought  the 
mother,  vaguely,  and  with  a  queer,  sudden  pang. 

"  And  you're  going  on  with  it?  " 

"  What  ?  Militancy  ?  Of  course  we  are  —  more 
than  ever !  " 

"  Why,  the  men  laugh  at  you,  Gertrude !  " 

"  They  won't  laugh  —  by  the  time  we've  done,"  said 
Gertrude,  with  apparent  indifference.  Her  mother  had 
not  sufficient  subtlety  of  perception  to  see  that  the 
indifference  was  now  assumed,  to  hide  the  quiver  of 
nerves,  irreparably  injured  by  excitement  and  over- 
strain. 

"  Well,  all  I  know  is,  it's  against  nature  to  suppose 
that  women  can  fight  men."  Mrs.  Marvell's  remarks 
were  rather  like  the  emergence  of  scattered  spars  from 
a  choppy  sea. 

"  We  shall  fight  them,"  said  Gertrude,  sourly  — 
"  And  what's  more,  we  shall  beat  them." 

"  All  the  same  we've  got  to  live  with  them !  "  cried 
her  mother,  suddenly  flushing,  as  old  memories  swept 
across  her. 

"  Yes, —  on  our  terms  —  not  theirs  !  " 

"  I  do  believe,  Gertrude,  you  hate  the  very  sight  of 
a  man  I  "  Gertrude  smiled  again ;  then  suddenly  shiv- 
ered, as  though  the  cold  wind  outside  had  swept  through 
the  room. 

"  And  so  would  you  —  if  you  knew  what  I  do  !  " 

"  Well  I  do  know  a  good  bit !  "  protested  Mrs.  Mar- 
vell.  *'  And  I'm  a  married  woman, —  worse  luck !  and 
you're  not.  But  you'll  never  see  it  any  other  way 
than  3^our  own,  Gertie.     You  got  a  kink  in  you  when 


Delia  Blanchflower  367 

you  were  quite  a  girl.  Last  week  I  was  talking  about 
jou  to  a  woman  I  know  —  and  I  said  — '  It's  the  girls 
ruined  by  the  bad  men  that  make  Gertrude  so  mad  ' — 
and  she  said  — *  She  don't  ever  think  of  the  boys  that 
are  ruined  by  the  bad  women !  —  Has  she  ever  had  a  son 
—  not  she! '  And  she  just  cried  and  cried.  I  suppose 
she  was  thinking  of  something." 

Gertinide  rose. 

"Look  here,  mother.  Can  I  go  to  bed?  I'm  aw- 
fully tired." 

"  Wait  a  bit.     I'll  make  the  bed." 

Gertrude  sat  down  by  the  fire  again.  Her  exhaus- 
tion was  evident,  and  she  made  no  attempt  to  help  her 
mother.  Mrs.  Marvell  let  down  the  chair-bed,  drew 
it  near  the  fire,  and  found  some  bed-clothes.  Then  she 
produced  night-things  of  her  own,  and  helped  Gertrude 
undress.  When  her  daughter  was  in  bed,  she  made  some 
tea,  and  dry  toast,  and  Gertrude  let  them  be  forced  on 
her.  When  she  had  finished,  the  mother  suddenly 
stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"Where  are  you  going  to  now,  Gertrude?  Are  you 
staying  on  with  that  lady  in  Hamptonshire?  " 

"  Can't  tell  you  my  plans  just  yet,"  said  Gertrude 
sleepily  — "  but  you'll  know  next  week." 

The  lights  were  put  out.  Both  women  tried  to  sleep, 
and  Gertrude  was  soon  heavily  asleep. 

But  as  soon  as  it  was  light,  Mrs.  Marvell  heard  her 
moving,  the  splash  of  water,  and  the  lighting  of  the  fire. 
Presently  Gertrude  came  to  her  side  fully  dressed  — 

"  There,  mother,  I've  made  ycm  a  cup  of  tea !  And 
now  in  a  few  minutes  I  shall  be  off." 

Mrs.  Marv-ell  sat  up  and  drank  the  tea. 

"  I  didn't  think  you'd  go  in  such  a  hurry,"  she  said, 
fretfully. 


368 


Delia  Blanchflower 


"  I  must.  My  day's  so  full.  Well,  now  look  here. 
Mother,  I  want  you  to  know  if  anj^thing  were  to  happen 
to  me,  my  thousand  pounds  would  come  to  you  first,  and 
then  to  Winnie  and  her  children.  And  it's  my  wish, 
that  neither  my  brother  nor  Henry  shall  touch  a  far- 
thing of  it.  I've  made  a  will,  and  that's  the  address  of 
my  solicitors,  who're  keeping  it."  She  handed  her 
mother  an  envelope. 

Mrs.  Marvell  put  down  her  tea,  and  put  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes. 

"  I  believe  you're  up  to  something  dreadful,  Ger- 
trude,—  which  you  won't  tell  me." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Gertrude,  not  however  unkindly. 
"  But  we  mayn't  see  each  other  for  a  good  while. 
There !  —  I'll  open  the  windows  —  that'll  make  you  feel 
more  cheerful."  And  she  drew  up  the  blinds  to  the  dull 
Februar}^  day,  and  opened  a  window. 

"  I'll  telephone  to  Winnie  as  I  go  past  the  Post  Office 
to  come  and  spend  the  day  with  you  —  and  I'll  send 
up  the  servant  to  do  3'our  room.     Now  don't  fret." 

"  I'm  a  lonely  old  woman,  Gertrude :  —  and  I  wish 
I  was  dead." 

Gertinide  frowned. 

"  You  should  try  and  read  something,  Mother  —  bet- 
ter than  these  trashy  novels.  WHien  I've  time,  I'll  send 
you  a  parcel  of  books  —  I've  got  a  good  many.  And 
don't  you  let  your  work  go  —  it's  good  for  you.  Now 
good-bye." 

The  two  women  kissed  —  Mrs.  Marvell  embracing  her 
daughter  with  a  sudden  fierceness  of  emotion  to  which 
Gertrude  submitted,  almost  for  the  first  time  in  her  life. 
Then  her  mother  pushed  her  away. 

"  Good-bye,  Gertrude  —  you'd  better  go  !  " 


Delia  Blanchflower  369 

Gertrude  went  out  noiselessh',  closing  the  door  be- 
hind her  with  a  lingering  movement,  unlike  her.  In  the 
tiny  hall  below,  she  found  the  "  general "  at  work, 
and  sent  her  up  to  Mrs.  Mai'\'ell.  Then  she  went  out 
into  the  grey  February  morning,  and  the  little  girl  of 
the  landlady  standing  on  the  steps  saw  her  enter  one 
of  the  eastward-bound  trams. 

Monday  afternoon  came.  Winnington  had  been 
called  away  to  Wanchester  by  urgent  County  business ; 
against  his  will,  for  there  had  been  some  bad  rioting 
the  day  before  at  Latchford,  and  he  would  rather  have 
gone  to  help  his  brother  magistrates.  But  there  was 
no  help  for  it.  Lady  Tonbridge  was  at  the  little 
Georgian  house,  shutting  it  up  for  six  months.  Delia 
was  left  alone  in  the  Abbey,  consumed  with  a  restless 
excitement  she  had  done  her  best  to  hide  from  her  com- 
panions. She  suddenly  made  up  her  mind  that  she 
would  go  and  see  for  herself,  and  by  herself,  what  was 
happening  at  Monk  Lawrence.  She  set  out  unobserved 
and  on  foot,  and  had  soon  climbed  the  hill  and  reached 
the  wood  walk  along  its  crest  where  she  had  once  met 
Lathrop.  Half  way  through,  she  came  on  two  persons 
whom  she  at  once  recognised  as  the  science-mistress, 
Miss  Jackson,  and  Miss  Toogood.  They  were  walking 
slowly,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  Delia,  sadly ;  the  little 
dressmaker  limping  painfully,  with  her  head  thrown 
back  and  a  face  of  fixed  and  tragic  distress. 

When  they  saw  Delia,  they  stopped  in  agitation. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Blanchflower! " 

Delia  who  knew  that  INIiss  Jackson  had  been  in  town 
hoping  for  work  at  the  Central  Office  of  the  League  of 
Revolt,  divined  at  once  that  she  had  been  disappointed. 


370  Delia  Blanchflower 

"  They  couldn't  find  you  anything?  " 

The  teacher  shook  her  head. 

"  And  the  Governors  have  given  me  a  month's  salary 
here  in  lieu  of  notice.  I've  left  the  school,  Miss  Blanch- 
flower  !  I  was  in  the  Square  you  know,  that  day  — 
and  at  the  Police  Court  afterwards.  That  was  what 
did  it.     And  I  have  my  old  mother  to  keep." 

A  pair  of  haggard  eyes  met  Delia's. 

"  Oh,  but  I'll  help !  "  cried  Delia.—"  You  must  let  me 
help  !  —  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Thank  you  —  but  I've  got  a  few  savings,"  said  the 
teacher  quietly.  "  It  isn't  that  so  much.  It's  —  well, 
Miss  Toogood  feels  It  too.  She  was  in  town  —  she  saw 
everything.  And  she  knows  what  I  mean.  We're  dis- 
heartened —  that's  what  it  is  !  " 

"  With  the  movement  ?  "  said  Delia,  after  a  moment. 

"  It  seemed  so  splendid  when  we  talked  of  it  down 
here  —  and  —  it  rcas  —  so  horrible !  "  Her  voice 
dropped. 

"  So  horrible !  "  echoed  jMiss  Toogood  drearily.  "  It 
wasn't  what  we  meant,  somehow.  And  yet  we'd  read 
about  it.  But  to  see  those  young  women  beating  men's 
faces  —  well,  it  did  for  me !  " 

"  The  police  were  rough  too !  "  cried  Miss  Jackson. 
"  But  you  couldn't  wonder  at  it.  Miss  Blanchflower, 
could  you  ?  " 

Delia  looked  into  the  speaker's  frank,  troubled  face. 

"  You  and  I  felt  the  same,"  she  said  in  a  choked 
voice.     "  It  was  ugly  —  and  it  was  absurd." 

She  walked  back  with  them  a  little  way,  comforting 
them,  as  best  she  could.  And  her  sympathy,  her  sweet- 
ness did  —  strangely  —  comfort  them.  Wlien  she  left 
them,  they  walked  on,  talking  tenderly  of  her,  counting 
on  her  good  fortune,  if  there  was  none  for  them. 


Delia  Blanchflower  371 

At  the  end  of  the  walk,  towards  Monk  Lawrence, 
another  figure  emerged  from  the  distance.  Delia 
started,  then  gathered  all  her  wits ;  for  it  was  Lathrop. 

He  hurried  towards  her,  breathless,  cutting  all  pre- 
liminaries — 

"  I  was  coming  to  find  you.  I  arrived  this  morning. 
There  is  something  wrong!  I  have  just  been  to  the 
house,  and  there  is  no  one  there." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No  one.  I  went  to  Daunt's  rooms.  Everything 
locked.  The  house  absolutely  dark  —  everywhere. 
And  I  know  that  he  has  had  the  strictest  orders !  " 

Without  a  word,  she  began  to  run,  and  he  beside 
her.  When  she  slackened,  he  told  her  that  while  in 
London  he  had  made  the  most  skilful  enquiries  he 
could  devise  as  to  the  plot  he  believed  to  be  on  foot. 
But  —  like  Delia's  own  —  they  had  been  quite  fruit- 
less. Those  persons  who  had  shared  suspicion  with 
him  in  December  were  now  convinced  that  the  thing  was 
dropped.  All  that  he  had  ascertained  was  that  Miss 
Marvell  was  in  town,  apparently  recovered,  and  Miss 
Andrews  with  her. 

"  Well  —  and  were  you  pleased  with  your  raid  ?  " 
he  asked  her,  half  mockingly,  as  he  opened  the  gate  of 
Monk  Lawrence  for  her. 

She  resented  the  question,  and  the  tone  of  it,  re- 
membering his  first  grandiloquent  letter  to  her. 

"  You  ought  to  be,"  she  said,  drily.  "  It  was  the 
kind  of  thing  you  recommended," 

"  In  that  letter  I  wrote  you !  I  ought  to  have  apolo- 
gised to  you  for  that  letter  long  ago.  I  am  afraid  it  was 
an  exercise.     Oh,  I  felt  it,  I  suppose,  when  I  wrote  it." 

There  was  a  touch  of  something  insolent  in  his  voice. 

She  made  no  reply.     If  it  had  not  been  for  the  neces- 


372  Delia  Blanchflower 

sity  which  yoked  them,  she  would  not  have  spent  an- 
other minute  in  his  company,  so  repellent  to  her  had  he 
become  —  both  in  the  inner  and  the  outer  man.  She 
tried  only  to  think  of  him  as  an  ally  in  a  desperate  cam- 
paign. 

They  hastened  up  the  Monk  Lawrence  drive.  The 
house  stood  still  and  peaceful  in  the  February  afternoon. 
The  rooks  from  the  rookery  behind  were  swirling  about 
and  over  the  roofs,  filling  the  air  with  monotonous  sound 
which  only  emphasized  the  silence  below.  A  sheet  of 
snowdrops  lay  white  in  the  courtyard,  where  a  child's 
go-cart  upset,  held  the  very  middle  of  the  stately  ap- 
proach to  the  house. 

Delia  went  to  the  front  door,  and  rang  the  bell  — - 
repeatedly.  Not  a  sound,  except  the  dim  echoes  of  the 
bell  itself  from  some  region  far  inside. 

"  No  good !  "  said  Lathrop.  "  Now  come  to  the 
back."  They  went  round  to  the  low  addition  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  where  Daunt  and  his  family  had  now 
lived  for  many  months.  Here  also  there  was  nobody. 
The  door  was  locked.  The  blinds  were  drawn  down. 
Impossible  to  see  into  the  rooms,  and  neither  calling  nor 
knocking  produced  any  response. 

Lathrop  stood  thinking. 

"  Absolutely  against  orders  !  I  know  —  for  Daunt 
himself  told  me  —  that  he  had  promised  Lang  never  to 
leave  the  house  without  putting  some  deputy  he  could 
trust  in  charge.  He  has  gone  and  left  no  deputy  —  or 
the  deputy  he  did  leave  has  deserted." 

"  What's  the  nearest  house  —  or  cottage?  " 

"  The  Gardeners'  cottages,  beyond  the  kitchen  gar- 
den. Only  one  of  them  occupied  now,  I  believe.  Daunt 
used  to  live  there  before  he  moved  into  the  house.  Let's 
go  there ! " 


Delia  Blanchflower  373 

They  ran  on.  The  walled  kitchen  garden  was  locked, 
but  they  found  a  way  round  it  to  where  three  creeper- 
grown  cottages  stood  in  a  pleasant  lonely  space  girdled 
by  beech-woods.  One  only  was  inhabited,  but  from  that 
the  smoke  was  going  up,  and  a  babble  of  children's 
voices  emerged. 

Lathrop  knocked.  There  was  a  sudden  sound,  and 
then  a  silence  within.  In  a  minute  however  the  door 
was  opened,  and  a  strapping  black-eyed  young  woman 
stood  on  the  threshold  looking  both  sulky  and  aston- 
ished. 

"  Are  you  Daunt's  niece?  "  said  Lathrop. 
"  I  am,  Sir.     What  do  you  want  with  him  ?  " 
"Why  isn't  he  at  Monk  Lawrence.'^  "  asked  Lathrop 
roughly.     "  He  told  me  himself  he  was  not  to  leave  the 
house  unguarded." 

"  Well,  Sir,  I  don't  know  I'm  sure  what  business  it 
is  of  yours ! "  said  the  woman,  flushing  with  anger. 
"  He  got  bad  news  of  his  son,  whose  ship  arrived  at 
Portsmouth  yesterday,  and  the  young  man  said  to  be 
dying,  on  board.  So  he  went  off  this  afternoon.  I've 
only  left  it  for  ten  minutes  and  I'm  going  back  directl}'. 
Mrs.  Cresson  here  had  asked  the  children  to  tea,  and 
I  brought  them  over.  And  I'll  thank  you,  Sir,  not  to 
go  spying  on  honest  people !  " 

And  she  would  have  slammed  the  door  in  his  face, 
but  that  Delia  came  forward. 

"  We  had  no  intention  of  spying  upon  you.  Miss 
Daunt  —  indeed  we  hadn't.  But  I  am  Miss  Blanch- 
flower,  Avho  came  here  before  Christmas,  with  Mr. 
Winnington,  and  I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  ^Ir. 
Daunt  and  the  children.  Lily  !  —  don't  you  remember 
me?" — and  she  smiled  at  the  crippled  child  —  a  deli- 
cate blue-eyed  creature  —  whom  she  saw  in  the  back- 
ground. 


374  Delia  Blanchflower 

But  the  child,  who  seemed  to  have  been  crying  vio- 
lently, did  not  come  forward.  And  the  other  two,  who 
had  their  fingers  in  their  mouths,  were  equally  silent 
and  shrinking.  In  the  distance  an  old  woman  sat  mo- 
tionless in  her  chair  by  the  fire,  taking  no  notice  ap- 
parently of  what  was  going  on. 

The  young  woman  appeared  for  a  moment  confused 
or  excited. 

"  Well,  I'm  sorry,  Miss,  but  my  Uncle  won't  be  back 
till  after  dark.  And  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  come 
in,  Miss," —  she  hurriedly  drew  the  door  close  behind 
her  — "  the  doctor  thinks  two  of  the  children  have  got 
whooping-cough  —  and  I  didn't  send  them  to  school  to- 
day." 

"  Well,  just  understand,  Miss  Daunt,  if  that's  your 
name,"  said  Lathrop,  with  emphasis  — "  that  till  you 
return  to  the  house,  we  shall  stay  there.  We  shall  walk 
up  and  down  there,  till  you  come  back.  You  know  well 
enough  there  are  people  about,  who  would  gladly  do  an 
injury  to  the  house,  and  that  it's  not  safe  to  leave  it. 
Monk  Lawrence  is  not  Sir  Wilfrid  Lang's  property 
onl}'.  It  belongs  to  the  whole  nation,  and  there  are 
plenty  of  people  that'll  know  the  reason  why,  if  any 
harm  comes  to  it." 

"  Oh,  very  well.  Have  it  your  own  way.  Sir !  I'll 
come  —  I'll  come  • —  fast  enough,"  and  the  speaker, 
with  a  curious  half-mocking  look  at  Lathrop,  flounced 
back  into  the  cottage,  and  shut  the  door.  They  waited. 
There  were  sounds  of  lowered  voices,  and  crying  chil- 
dren. Then  Miss  Daunt  emerged  defiantly,  and  they 
all  three  walked  back  to  Monk  Lawrence. 

The  keeper's  niece  unlocked  the  door  leading  to 
Daunt's  rooms.     But  she  stood  sulkily  in  the  entry. 

"  Now  I  hope  you're  satisfied,  Sir.     I  don't  know. 


Delia  Blanchflower  375 

I'm  sure,  why  vou  should  come  meddling  in  other  peo- 
ple's affairs.  And  I  daresay  you'll  say  something 
against  me  to  my  uncle !  " 

"  Well,  anyway,  you  keep  watch ! "  was  the  stern 
reply.  *'  I  take  my  rounds  often  this  way,  as  your 
Uncle  knows.  I  daresay  I  shall  be  by  here  again  to- 
night.     Can  the  children  find  their  way  home  alone.''  " 

"  Well,  they're  not  idiots,  Sir !  Good-night  to  you. 
I've  got  to  get  supper."  And  brusquely  shutting  the 
door  in  their  faces,  she  went  inside.  They  perceived 
immediately  afterwards  that  she  had  lit  a  light  in  the 
kitchen. 

"  Well,  so  far,  all  right,"  said  Lathrop,  as  he  and 
Delia  withdrew.  "  But  the  whole  thing's  rather  — 
queer.  You  know  that  old  woman,  Mrs.  Cresson,  is  not 
all  there,  and  quite  helpless  .'*  " 

He  pondered  it  as  they  walked  back  through  the 
wood,  his  eyes  on  the  ground.  Delia  shared  his  unde- 
fined anxiety.  She  suggested  that  he  should  go  back 
to  the  house  in  an  hour  or  so,  to  see  if  Daunt  had  re- 
turned, and  complain  of  his  niece's  breach  of  rules. 
Lathrop  agreed. 

"  How  do  we  know  who  or  what  that  girl  is.''  " — he 
said  slowly  — "  that  she  mayn't  have  been  got  hold 
of.?  " 

The  same  terror  grew  in  Delia.  She  walked  on  be- 
side him  absorbed  in  speculation  and  discussion,  till, 
without  noticing,  she  had  reached  the  farther  gate  of 
the  wood-walk.  Outside  the  gate,  ran  the  Wanchester 
road,  climbing  the  down,  amid  the  woods.  To  reach 
the  field  path  leading  to  the  Abbey,  Delia  must  cross 
it. 

She  and  Lathrop  emerged  from  the  wood  still  talk- 
ing in  low  voices,  and  stood  beside  the  gate.     A  small 


376 


Delia  Blanchflower 


car,  with  one  man  driving  it,  was  descending  the  long 
hill.     But  Delia  had  her  back  to  it. 

It  came  nearer.  She  turned,  and  saw  Winnington 
approaching  her  —  saw  the  look  on  his  face.  For  a 
moment  she  wavered.  Then  with  a  bow  and  a  hasty 
*'  Good  Evening,"  she  left  Lathrop,  and  stepped  into 
the  road,  holding  up  her  hand  to  stop  the  car. 

"How  lucky!"  she  said,  clearly,  and  gaily, — "just 
as  it's  going  to  rain!     Will  you  take  me  home?  " 

Winnington,  without  a  word,  made  room  for  her  be- 
side him.  The  two  men  exchanged  a  slight  greeting  — 
and  the  car  passed. 

Lathrop  walked  quickly  back  in  the  direction  of  Monk 
Lawrence.     His  vanity  was  hugely  pleased. 

"  By  George !  —  that  was  one  to  me !  It's  quite  evi- 
dent she  hasn't  taken  him  into  her  confidence  —  doesn't 
want  magistrates  interfering  —  no  doubt.  And  mean- 
while she  appeals  to  vie  —  she  depends  on  me.  What- 
ever happens  —  she'll  have  to  be  grateful  to  me.  That 
fellow  with  his  wry  face  can't  stop  it.  What  a  vision 
she  made  just  now  under  the  wood  — '  belle  dame  sans 
merci ! ' —  hating  my  company  —  and  yet  compelled  to 
it.  It  would  make  a  sonnet  I  think  —  I'll  try  it  to- 
night." 

Meanwhile  in  the  dark  corridors  of  Monk  Lawrence  a 
woman  groping,  met  another  woman.  The  two  dim 
figures  exchanged  some  whispered  words.  Then  one  of 
them  returned  to  the  back  regions. 

Lathrop,  passing  by,  noticed  smoke  rising  from  the 
Daunts'  chimney,  and  was  reassured.  But  in  an  hour 
or  so  he  would  return  to  look  for  Daunt  himself. 

He  had  no  sooner  descended  the  hill  to  his  own  cot- 
tage,  in   the   fast   gathering   dusk,   than   Eliza   Daunt 


Delia  Blanchflower  377 

emerged.  She  left  the  light  burning  in  the  keeper's 
kitchen,  and  some  cold  supper  on  the  table.  Then  with 
a  laugh  which  was  half  a  sob  of  excitement  she  ran  down 
the  path  leading  to  the  garden  cottages. 

She  was  met  by  a  clamour  of  rebellious  children,  as 
she  opened  INIrs.  Cresson's  door.  "  Where's  Daddy, 
Liza  ?  —  where's  Daddy !  Why  can't  we  go  home !  We 
want  our  Daddy  !  " 

"  Hold  your  noise !  "  said  Eliza  roughly  — "  or  it'll 
be  the  worse  for  you  —  Daddy  won't  be  home  for  a 
couple  of  hours  yet,  and  I  promised  Fred  Cresson,  I'd 
get  Mrs.  Cresson's  tea  for  her.  Lily,  stop  crying  — 
and  get  the  tray  I  " 

The  crippled  child,  red-eyed,  unwillingly  obeyed. 
Neither  she  nor  her  sisters  could  understand  why  they 
had  been  brought  over  to  tea  with  Mrs.  Cresson  of 
whose  queer  half-imbecile  ways  they  were  all  terrified. 
Their  father  had  gone  off  in  a  great  hurry  —  because  of 
the  telegram  which  had  come.  And  Fred  had  bicycled 
down  to  Latchford  to  see  somebody  about  a  gardener's 
place.  And  now  there  was  no  one  left  but  Liza  and 
Mrs.  Cresson  —  of  whom,  for  different  reasons,  the 
three  little  girls  were  equally  afraid.  And  Lily's  heart 
especially  was  sore  for  her  father.  She  knew  very  well 
they  were  all  doing  what  was  forbidden.  But  she  dared 
not  complain.  They  had  found  Cousin  'Liza  a  hard 
woman. 

After  Eliza  Daunt  had  left  Daunt's  kitchen,  for  the 
space  of  half  an  hour,  a  deep  and  brooding  quiet  settled 
on  Monk  Lawrence.  The  old  house  held  that  in  its 
womb,  which  must  soon  crash  to  light ;  but  for  this 
last  brief  space,  all  was  peace.  The  twilight  of  a  clear 
February  evening  mellowed  the  grey  walls,  and  the  moss- 
grown   roofs ;   the  house   spoke   its   last   message  —  its 


378  Delia  Blanchflower 

murmured  story,  as  the  long  yoke-fellow  of  human  life 
—  to  the  tranquil  air ;  and  the  pigeons  crooned  about 
it,  little  knowing. 

Presently  from  the  same  door  which  had  seen  Eliza 
Daunt  depart,  a  woman  cautiously  emerged.  She  was 
in  dark  clothes,  closely  veiled.  With  noiseless  step, 
she  passed  round  the  back  of  the  house,  pausing  a 
moment  to  look  at  tlie  side  door  on  the  north  side  which 
had  been  lately  strengthened  by  Sir  Wilfrid's  orders. 
Then  she  gained  the  shelter  of  the  close-grown  shrub- 
bery, and  turning  round  she  stood  a  few  seconds  mo- 
tionless, gazing  at  the  house.  In  spite  of  her  quiet 
movements,  she  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot  —  with 
excitement,  not  fear. 

"  It's  beautiful,"  she  was  saying  to  herself  — "  and 
precious  —  and  I've  destroyed  it."  Then  —  with  a 
fierce  leap  in  the  blood  — "  Beauty!  And  what  about 
the  beauty  that  men  destroy?     Let  them  pay!  " 

But  as  she  stood  there  a  sudden  disabling  storm  of 
thought  —  misgiving  —  argument  —  swept  through  her 
brain.  She  seemed  to  hear  on  all  sides  voices  in  the 
air  —  the  voices  of  friends  and  foes,  of  applause  and 
execration  —  Delia's  voice  among  them !  And  at  the 
mere  imagination  of  it,  a  shiver  of  anger  ran  through 
her.  She  thought  of  Delia  now,  only  as  of  one  who  had 
deserted  and  disobeyed. 

But  with  the  illusion  of  the  ear,  there  came  also  an 
illusion  of  vision.  The  months  of  her  recent  life  rose 
before  her,  in  one  hurrying  spectacle  of  scenes  and  faces, 
and  the  spectacle  aroused  in  her  but  one  idea  —  one 
sickening  impression  —  of  crushing  and  superhuman  ef- 
fort. What  labour!  —  what  toil!  She  shuddered  un- 
der it.  Then,  suddenly,  her  mind  ran  back  to  the  early 
years  before,  beyond,  the  days  of  "  war  " —  sordid,  un- 


Delia  Blanchflower  379 

ceasing  war  —  when  there  had  been  time  to  love,  to 
weep,  to  pity,  to  enjoy;  before  wrath  breeding  wrath, 
and  violence  begetting  violence,  had  driven  out  the 
Spirits  of  Tenderness  and  Hope.  She  seemed  to  see, 
to  feel  them  —  the  sad  Exiles  !  —  fleeing  along  desert 
ways ;  and  her  bitter  heart  cried  out  to  them  —  for  the 
only  —  the  last  time.  For  in  the  great  names  of  Love 
and  Justice,  she  had  let  Hate  loose  within  her,  and  like 
the  lion-cub  nurtured  in  the  house,  it  had  grown  to  be 
the  soul's  master  and  gaoler ;  a  "  doom  "  holding  the 
citadels  of  life,  and  working  itself  out  to  the  appointed 
end. 

But  the  tumult  in  which  she  stood  began  to  unnerve 
her.  By  a  last  exercise  of  will  she  was  able  to  pull  her- 
self together. 

Rapidly,  as  one  well  used  to  them,  she  made  her  way 
through  the  shrubbery  paths ;  round  the  walled  garden, 
and  behind  the  gardeners'  cottages.  She  heard  the 
children  in  Mrs.  Cresson's  cottage  as  she  passed,  Lily 
still  fretfully  crying,  and  the  old  woman's  voice  scold- 
ing. Poor  children !  —  they  would  be  horribly  fright- 
ened • —  but  nothing  worse. 

The  thick  overgrown  wood  of  fir  and  beech  behind 
the  cottages  received  her,  swallowed  up  the  slight  in- 
significant form.  In  the  wood  there  was  still  liglit 
enough  to  let  her  groje  her  way  along  the  path,  till 
at  the  end,  against  an  opening  to  the  sky,  she  saw  the 
outlines  of  a  keeper's  hut.  Then  she  knew  that  she 
was  worn  out,  and  must  rest.  She  pushed  the  door 
ajar,  and  sat  crouching  on  the  threshold,  while  the 
schemes  and  plottings  of  the  preceding  weeks  ran  dis- 
jointedly  through  memory. 

INIarion  was  safe  by  now  —  she  had  had  an  hour's 
start.      And    Eliza    too   had   gone.      Nothing   could   be 


380  Delia  Blanchflower 

better  than  the  arrangements  made  for  those  two. 
But  she  herself  was  not  going  —  not  yet.  Her  Hmbs 
failed  her ;  and  beyond  the  sheltering  woods,  she  seemed 
to  become  electrically  aware  of  hostile  persons,  of  nets 
drawn  round  her,  cutting  off  escape.  As  to  that,  she 
felt  the  most  supreme  indifference  to  what  might  hap- 
pen to  her.  The  indifference,  indeed,  passed  presently 
into  a  strange  and  stinging  temptation  to  go  back  ■ — 
back  to  the  dark  house  —  to  see  with  her  own  eyes 
what  her  hands  had  done.  She  resisted  it  with  diffi- 
culty. .  .  .  Suddenly,  a  sound  from  the  distance  —  be- 
yond the  cottages  —  as  of  a  slight  explosion.  She 
started,  and  throwing  back  her  veil,  she  sat  motionless 
in  the  doorway  of  the  hut,  her  face  making  a  dim  white 
patch  upon  the  darkness. 


Chapter  XX 

' 'nnAKE  me  home!  —  take  me  home  quick!  I  want 
A     to  talk  to  you.     Not  now  —  not  here  !  " 

The  car  flew  along.  Mark  barely  looked  at  Delia. 
His  face  was  set  and  pale.  As  for  her,  while  they  ran 
through  the  village  and  along  the  country  road  between 
it  and  Maumsey,  her  mind  had  time  to  adjust  itself  to 
that  flashing  resolution  which  had  broken  down  a  hun- 
dred scruples  and  swept  away  a  hundred  fears,  in  that 
moment  on  the  hill  when  she  had  met  his  eyes,  and  the 
look  in  them.  What  must  he  think  of  her?  An  as- 
signation with  that  man,  on  the  very  first  afternoon  when 
his  tender  watchfulness  left  her  for  an  hour !  No,  it 
could  not  be  borne  that  he  should  read  her  so !  She 
must  clear  herself !  And  thought,  leaping  beacon-like 
from  point  to  point  told  her,  at  last,  that  for  Gertrude 
too,  she  had  chosen  wrongly.  Thank  Heaven,  there  was 
still  time !  What  could  a  girl  do,  all  alone  —  groping 
in  such  a  darkness?  Better  after  all  lay  the  case  be- 
fore Mark's  judgment,  Mark's  tenderness,  and  trust 
him  with  it  all.  Trust  her  own  power  too  —  see  what 
a  girl  could  do  with  the  man  who  loved  her ! 

The  car  stopped  at  the  Abbey  door,  and  Winnington, 
still  absolutely  silent,  helped  her  to  alight.  She  led 
the  way,  past  the  drawing-room  where  Lady  Tonbridgc 
sat  rather  anxiously  expecting  her,  to  that  bare  room  on 
the  ground  floor,  the  little  gun-room,  which  Gertrude 
Marvcll  had  made  her  office,  and  where  many  signs  of 
her  occupation  still  remained  —  a  calendar  on  the  wall 

381 


382  Delia  Blanchflower 

marking  the  "  glorious  "  dates  of  the  League  —  a  flash- 
light photograph  of  the  first  raid  on  Parliament  some 
years  before  —  a  faded  badge,  and  scattered  piles  of 
newspapers.  A  couple  of  deal  tables  and  two  chairs 
were  all  the  furniture  the  room  contained,  in  addition  to 
the  cupboards,  painted  in  stone-colour,  which  covered 
the  walls. 

Delia  closed  the  door,  and  threw  off  her  furs.  Then, 
with  a  gesture  of  complete  abandonment,  she  went  up 
to' Winnington,  holding  out  her  hands  — 
"  Oh,  Mark,  Mark,  I  want  you  to  help  me !  " 
He  took  her  hands,  but  without  pressing  them.  His 
face,  frowning  and  flushed,  with  a  little  quivering  of  the 
nostrils,  began  to  terrify  her  — 

"  Oh,  Mark, —  dear  Mr.  Mark  —  I  went  to  see  Mr. 
Lathrop  —  because  —  because  I  was  in  great  trouble  — 
and  I  thought  he  could  help  me." 
He  dropped  the  hands. 

"You  went  to  him  —  instead  of  to  me?  How  long 
have  you  been  with  him?  Did  you  write  to  him  to  ar- 
range it  ?  " 

"  No,  no  —  we  met  by  accident.     Mark,  it's  not  my- 
self—  it's  a  fear  I  have  —  a  dreadful,  dreadful  fear!  " 
She  came  close  to  him,  piteously,  just  murmuring  — 
"  It's  Monk  Lawrence !  —  and  Gertrude !  " 
He  started,  and  looked  at  her  keenly  — 
"You  know  something  I  don't  know?" 
"  Oh  yes,  I  do,  I  do! "  she  said,  wringing  her  hands. 
"  I  ought  to  have  told  you  long  ago.     But  I've  been 
afraid   of  what  you  might  do  —  I've   been   afraid   for 
Gertrude.     Can't  you  see,  Mark?     I've  been  trying  to 
make    Mr.    Lathrop    keep    watch  —  enquire  —  so    that 
they  wouldn't  dare.     I've  told  Gertrude  that  I  know  — 
I've  written   to  people  —  I've  done   all   I  could.     And 


Delia  Blanchflower  383 

this  afternoon  I  felt  I  must  go  there  and  see  for  my- 
self, what  precautions  had  been  taken  —  and  I  met 
Mr.  Lathrop " 

She  gave  a  rapid  account  of  their  visit  to  the  house, — 
of  its  complete  desertion  —  of  the  strange  behaviour 
of  the  niece  —  and  of  the  growing  alarm  in  her  own 
mind. 

"  There's  something  —  there's  some  plot.  Perhaps 
that  woman's  in  it.  Perhaps  Gertrude's  got  hold  of 
her  —  or  Miss  Andrews.  Anyway,  if  that  house  can 
be  left  quite  alone  —  ever  —  they'll  get  at  it  —  that 
I'm  sure  of.  Why  did  she  take  the  children  away? 
Wasn't  that  strange  ?  " 

Then  she  put  her  hands  on  the  heart  that  fluttered 
so  —  and  tried  to  smile  — 

"  But  of  course  till  the  Bill's  thrown  out,  there  can 
be  no  danger,  can  there?  There  ca7i't  be  any!"  she 
repeated,  as  though  appealing  to  him  to  reassure 
her. 

"  I  don't  understand  yet,"  he  said  gravely.  "  Why 
do  you  suspect  Miss  Marvell,  or  a  plot  at  all?  There 
was  no  such  idea  in  your  mind  when  we  went  over  the 
house  together?" 

"  No,  none  !  —  or  at  least  not  seriously  —  there  was 
nothing,  really,  to  go  on  " —  she  assured  him  eagerly. 
"But  just  after  —  you  remember  Mr.  Lathrop's  com- 
ing—  that  day — ? — when  you  scolded  mc?" 

He  could  not  help  smiling  a  little  —  rather  bitterly. 

"  I  remember  you  said  you  couldn't  explain.  Of 
course  I  thought  it  was  something  connected  with  Miss 
Marvell,  or  your  Society  —  but " 

"  I'm  going  to  explain  " —  she  said,  trying  hard  for 
composure.     "  I'm  going  to  tell  it  all  in  order." 

And  sitting  down,  her  head  resting  on  her  hand,  with 


384 


Delia  Blanchflower 


Winnington  standing  before  her,  she  told  the  whole 
story  of  the  preceding  weeks  —  the  alternations  of 
fear  and  relief  —  Lathrop's  suspicions  —  Gertrude's  de- 
nials —  the  last  interview  between  them. 

As  for  the  man  looking  down  upon  her  beautiful  bowed 
head,  his  heart  melted  within  him  as  he  listened.  The 
sting  remained  that  she  should  have  asked  anyone  else 
than  he  to  help  her  —  above  all  that  she  should  have 
humbled  herself  to  ask  it  of  such  a  man  as  Lathrop. 
Anxiety  remained,  for  Monk  Lawrence  itself,  and  still 
more  for  what  might  be  said  of  her  complicity.  Eut  all 
that  was  further  implied  in  her  confession,  her  droop- 
ing sweetness,  her  passionate  appeal  to  him  —  the 
beauty  of  her  true  character,  its  innocence,  its  faith, 
its  loyalty  —  began  to  flood  him  with  a  f eehiig  that 
presently  burst  its  bounds. 

She  wound  up  with  most  touching  entreaties  to  him, 
to  save  and  shield  her  friend  —  to  go  himself  to  Ger- 
trude and  warn  her  —  to  go  to  the  police  —  without 
disclosing  names,  of  course  —  and  insist  that  the  house 
should  be  constantly  patrolled. 

He  scarcely  heard  a  word  of  this.  When  she 
paused  —  there  was  silence  a  moment.  Then  she  heard 
her  name  —  very  low  — 

"  Delia ! " 

She  looked  up,  and  with  a  long  breath  she  rose,  as 
though  drawn  invisibly.  He  held  out  his  arms,  and  she 
threw  hers  round  his  neck,  hiding  her  face  against  the 
life  that  beat  for  her. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me !  " —  she  murmured,  after  a  little, 
childishly  pressing  her  lips  to  his  — "  forgive  me  —  for 
everything !  " 

The  tears  were  In  his  eyes. 

"  You've   gone  through  all  this  !  —  alone !  "  he   said 


Delia  Blanchflower  385 


to  her,  as  he  bent  ovei-  her.  "  But  ncA'er  agam,  Delia  — 
never  again !  " 

She  was  the  first  to  release  herself  —  putting  tears 
away. 

"  Now  then  —  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

He  resumed  at  once  his  ordinary  manner  and  voice. 

*'  We  can  do  a  great  deal.  I  have  the  car  here.  I 
shall  go  straight  back  to  Monk  Lawrence,  and  see 
Daunt  to-night.  That  woman's  behaviour  must  be  re- 
ported —  and  explained.  An  hour  —  an  hour  and  a 
half.''  —  since  you  were  there?" — he  took  out  his 
watch  — "  He's  probably  home  by  now  —  it's  quite 
dark  —  he'd  scarcely  risk  being  away  after  dark. 
Dearest,  go  and  rest !  —  I  shall  come  back  later  —  after 
dinner.     Put  it  out  of  your  mind." 

She  went  towards  the  hall  with  him  hand  in  hand. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  confused  sound  of  shouting  out- 
side. Lady  Tonbridge  opened  the  drawing-room  door 
with  a  scared  face  — 

"What  is  it?  There  are  people  running  up  the 
drive.     They're  shouting  something !  " 

Winnington  rushed  to  the  front  door,  Delia  with  him. 
With  his  first  glance  at  the  hill-side,  he  understood  the 
meaning  of  the  cries  —  of  the  crowd  approaching. 

"  My  God !  —  too  late!  " 

For  high  on  that  wooded  slope,  a  blaze  was  spreading 
to  the  skies  —  a  blaze  that  gi-ew  with  every  second  — 
illuminating  with  its  flare  the  woods  around  it,  the  chim- 
neys of  the  old  house,  the  quiet  stretches  of  the  hill. 

"  Monk  Lawrence  is  afire,  Muster  Winnington ! " 
panted  one  of  Winnington's  own  labourers  who  had 
outstripped  the  rest.  "  They're  asking  for  you  to 
come!  They've  telephoned  to  Latchford  for  the 
engines,    and    to    Brownmouth    and    Wanchester    too. 


386  Delia  Blanchflower 

They  say  it's  burning  like  tow  —  there  must  be  pe- 
trol in  it,  or  summat.  It's  the  women  they  say !  —  spite 
of  Mr.  Daunt  and  the  perlice !  " 

Then  he  noticed  Delia  standing  beside  Winnington  on 
the  steps,  and  held  his  tongue,  scowling. 

Winnington's  car  was  still  standing  at  the  steps. 
He  set  it  going  in  a  moment. 

"  My  cloak !  "  said  Delia,  looking  round  her  — "  And 
tell  them  to  bring  the  car !  " 

"  Delia,  you're  not  going?  "  cried  Madeleine,  throw- 
ing a  restraining  arm  about  her. 

"  But  of  course  I  am !  "  said  the  girl  amazed.  "  Not 
with  him  —  because  I  should  be  in  his  way." 

Various  persons  ran  to  do  her  bidding.  Winnington 
already  in  his  place,  with  a  labourer  beside  him,  and 
two  more  in  the  seat  behind  him,  beckoned  to  her. 

"  Why  should  you  come,  dearest !  It  will  onl}^  break 
your  heart.  We'll  do  all  that  can  be  done,  and  I'll 
send  back  messages." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  shall  come !  But  don't  think  of  me.  I  won't  run 
any  risks." 

There  was  no  time  to  argue  with  her.  The  little  car 
sped  away,  and  with  it  the  miscellaneous  crowd  who  had 
rushed  to  find  Winnington,  as  the  natural  head  of  the 
Maumsey  communit}'^,  and  the  only  magistrate  within 
reach. 

Delia  and  Madeleine  were  left  standing  on  the  steps, 
amid  a  group  of  frightened  and  chattering  servants  — 
gazing  in  despairing  rage  at  the  ever-spreading  horror 
on  the  slope  of  the  down,  at  the  sudden  leaps  of  flame, 
the  vast  showers  of  sparks  drifting  over  the  woods,  the 
red  glare  on  the  low  hanging  clouds.  The  garnered 
beauty  of  four  centuries,  one  of  England's  noblest  heir- 


Delia  Blanchflower  387 

looms,  was  going  down  in  ruin,  at  the  bidding  of  a  hand- 
ful of  women,  hurling  themselves  in  disappointed  fury 
on  a  community  that  would  not  give  them  their  way. 

Sharp-toothed  remorse  had  hold  on  Delia.  If  she 
had  only  gone  to  Winnington  earlier !  "  My  fault !  — 
my  fault ! " 

When  the  car  came  quickly  round,  she  and  Lady 
Tonbridge  got  into  it.  As  they  rushed  through  the 
roads,  lit  on  their  way  by  that  blaze  in  the  heart  of  the 
hills,  of  which  the  roaring  began  to  reach  their  ears, 
Delia  sat  speechless,  and  death-like,  reconstructing  the 
past  days  and  hours.  Not  yet  two  hours  since  she  had 
left  the  house  —  left  it  untouched.  At  that  very  mo- 
ment, Gertrude  or  Gertrude's  agents  must  have  been 
within  it.  The  whole  thing  had  been  a  plot  —  the  chil- 
dren taken  away  —  the  house  left  deserted.  Very 
likely  Daunt's  summons  to  his  dying  son  had  been  also 
part  of  it.  And  as  to  the  niece  —  what  more  probable 
than  that  Gertrude  had  laid  hands  on  her  months  be- 
fore, guided  perhaps  by  the  local  knowledge  of  Marion 
Andrews, —  and  had  placed  her  as  spy  and  agent  in  the 
doomed  house  till  the  time  should  be  ripe?  The  blind 
and  fanatical  devotions  which  Gertrude  was  able  to  ex- 
cite when  she  set  herself  to  it,  was  only  too  well  known 
to  Delia. 

Where  was  Gertrude  herself?  For  Delia  was  certain 
that  she  had  not  merely  done  this  act  by  deputy. 

In  the  village,  every  person  who  had  not  gone  rush- 
ing up  the  hill  was  standing  at  the  doors,  pale  and  ter- 
ror-stricken, watching  the  glare  overhead.  The  blinds 
of  Miss  Toogood's  little  house  were  drawn  close.  And 
as  Delia  passed,  angry  looks  and  mutterings  pursued 
her. 

The  car  mounted  the  hill.     Suddenly  a  huge  noise 


388  Delia  Blanchflower 

and  hooting  behind  them.  They  drew  into  the  hedge, 
to  let  the  Latchford  fire-engine  thunder  past,  a  fine  new 
motor  engine,  just  purchased  and  equipped. 

"  There'll  be  three  or  four  more  directly.  Miss  " — 
shouted  one  of  her  own  garden  lads,  mounting  on  the 
step  of  the  car.  "  But  they  say  there's  no  hope.  It 
was  fired  in  three  places,  and  there  was  petrol  used." 

At  the  gate,  the  police  —  looking  askance  especially 
at  Miss  Blanchflower  —  would  have  turned  them  back. 
But  Delia  asked  for  Winnington,  and  they  were  at  last 
admitted  into  the  circle  outside  the  courtyard,  where 
beyond  reach  of  the  sparks,  and  falling  fragments,  the 
crowd  of  spectators  was  gathered.  People  made  way 
for  her,  but  Lady  Tonbridge  noticed  that  nobody  spoke 
to  her,  though  as  soon  as  she  appeared  all  the  angry  or 
excited  attention  that  the  crowd  could  spare  from  the 
fire  was  given  to  her.  Delia  was  not  aware  of  it.  She 
stood  a  little  in  front  of  the  crowd,  v/ith  her  veil 
thrown  back,  her  hands  clasped  in  front  of  her,  an  image 
of  rapt  despair.  Her  face,  like  all  the  faces  in  the 
crowd,  was  made  lurid  —  fantastic  —  by  the  glare  of 
the  flames ;  and  every  now  and  then^  as  though  uncon- 
sciously, she  brushed  away  the  mist  of  tears  from  her 
eyes. 

"  Aye  she's  sorry  now !  " —  said  a  stout  farmer,  bit- 
terly, to  his  neighbour  — "  now  that  she's  led  them  as  is 
even  younger  than  herself  into  trouble.  My  girl's  in 
prison  all  along  of  her  —  and  that  woman  as  they  do 
say  is  at  the  bottom  of  this  business." 

The  speaker  was  Kitty  Foster's  father.  Kitty  had 
just  been  sentenced  to  six  months'  imprisonment  for  the 
burning  of  a  cricket  pavilion  in  the  Midlands,  and  her 
relations  were  sitting  in  shame  and  grief  for  her. 

"  Whoever    'tis    as    did    it    'ull   have    a    job    to    get 


Delia  Blanchflower  389 

away  " —  said  the  man  he  addressed.  "  They've  got  a 
lot  o'  police  out.  Where's  'Liza  Daunt,  I  say.? 
They're  searching  for  her  everywhere.  Daunt's  just 
come  upon  the  engine  from  Latchford  - —  saw  the  fire 
from  the  train.  He  saj's  he's  been  tricked  —  a  put-up 
job  he  says.  There  wasn't  nothing  wrong  with  his  son, 
he  says,  when  he  got  to  Portsmouth.  If  they  do  catch 
'em,  the  police  will  have  to  guard  'em  safe.  It  won't 
do  to  let  the  crowd  get  at  'em.  They're  fair  mad. 
Oh,  Lord !  —  it's  caught  another  roof !  " 

And  a  groan  rose  from  the  fast-thickening  multitude, 
as  another  wall  fell  amid  a  shower  of  sparks  and  ashes, 
and  the  flames,  licking  up  and  up,  caught  the  high- 
pitched  roof  of  the  great  hall,  and  ran  along  the  stone 
letters  of  the  parapet,  which  spelt  out  the  motto  — 
"  Except  the  Lord  build  the  house,  they  labour  in  vain 
that  build  it."  The  fantastic  letters  themselves,  which 
had  been  lifted  to  their  places  before  the  death  of 
Shakespeare,  seemed  to  dance  in  the  flame  like  living 
and  tormented  things. 

jMeanwhile  in  the  courtyard,  and  on  the  side  lawns, 
scores  of  persons  were  busy  removing  furniture,  pictures 
and  tapestries.  Winnington  was  leading  and  organis- 
ing the  rescue  parties,  now  inside,  now  outside  the  house. 
And  near  him,  under  his  orders,  worked  Paul  Lathrop, 
in  his  shirt  sleeves,  superhumanly  active,  and  superhu- 
manly  strong  —  grinding  his  teeth  with  rage  some- 
times, as  the  fire  defeated  one  eff'ort  after  another  to 
check  it.  Daunt,  also  was  there,  pouring  out  incoher- 
ent confidences  to  the  police,  and  distracted  by  the 
growing  certainty  that  his  niece  had  been  one  of  the 
chief  authors  of  the  plot.  His  children  naturally  had 
been  his  first  thought.  But  the  Rector,  who  had  just 
been  round  to  enquire  for  them  at  Mrs.  Cresson's  cot- 


390  Delia  Blanchflower 

tage,  came  back  breathless,  shouting  "  all  safe !  " —  and 
Daunt  rushed  off  to  help  the  firemen;  while  Amberley 
reported  to  Susy  the  pitiable  misery  of  Lily,  the  little 
cripple,  who  had  been  shrieking  for  her  father  in  wild 
outbursts  of  crying,  refusing  to  believe  that  he  was  not 
in  the  fire.  Susy,  who  loved  the  child,  would  have 
gladly  gone  to  find  her,  and  take  her  home  to  the 
Rectory  for  the  night.  But,  impossible  to  leave  her 
post  at  Delia's  side,  and  this  blazing  spectacle  that  held 
the  darkness !  Two  village  women,  said  the  Rector, 
were  in  charge  of  the  children. 

"  No  chance !  "  said  Lathrop,  bitterly,  pausing  for  a 
moment  beside  Winnington,  while  they  both  took 
breath  —  the  sweat  pouring  from  their  smoke-blackened 
faces. 

"  If  one  could  get  to  the  top  of  that  window  with  the 
big  hose  —  one  could  reach  the  roof  better  " —  panted 
Winnington,  pointing  to  the  still  intact  double  oriel 
Vv'hich  ran  up  through  two  stories  of  the  building,  to 
the  east  of  the  dool^\"a3^ 

"  I  see !  "  Lathrop  dashed  away.  And  in  a  few  sec- 
onds he  and  a  fireman  could  be  seen  climbing  from  a 
ladder  upon  a  ledge,  a  carved  string-course,  which  con- 
nected the  eastern  and  western  oriels  above  the  main 
doorway.  They  crawled  along  the  ledge  like  flies,  cling- 
ing to  every  projection,  every  stem  of  ivy,  the  fireman 
dragging  the  hose. 

The  crowd  watched,  all  eyes.  Winnington,  after  a 
rapid  look  or  two,  turned  away  with  the  thought  — 
"  That  fellow's  done  some  rock-climbing  in  his  day !  " 

But  against  such  a  doom  as  had  now  gripped  IMonk 
Lawrence,  nothing  availed.  Lathrop  and  his  companion 
had  barely  scaled  the  parapet  of  the  window  when  a 
huge    central    crash    sent    its    resounding   din    circling 


Delia  Blanchflower  391 

round  the  leafless  woods,  and  the  two  climbing  figures 
disappeared  from  view  amid  a  fresh  rush  of  smoke  and 
flame. 

The  great  western  chimney-stack  had  fallen.  When 
the  cloud  of  smoke  drifted  away,  a  gaping  cavity  of 
fire  was  seen  just  behind  the  two  men;  it  could  only  be 
a  matter  of  minutes  before  the  wall  and  roof  immediately 
behind  them  came  down  upon  them.  The  firemen 
shouted  to  them  from  below.  A  long  ladder  was  brought 
and  run  up  to  within  twenty  feet  of  them.  Lathrop 
climbed  down  to  it  over  the  scorched  face  of  the  oriel, 
his  life  in  jeopardy  at  every  step.  Then  steadying  him- 
self on  the  ladder, —  and  grasping  a  projection  in  the 
wall,  he  called  to  the  man  above,  to  drop  upon  his  shoul- 
ders. It  was  done,  by  a  miracle  —  and  both  holding 
on,  the  man  above  by  the  projections  of  the  wall  and 
Lathrop  by  the  ladder,  descended,  till  the  two  were 
within  reach  of  safety. 

A  thin  roar  of  cheers  rose  from  the  environing  throng, 
scarcely  audible  amid  the  greater  roar  of  the  flames. 
Lathrop,  wearied,  depressed,  with  bleeding  hands,  came 
back  to  Winnington's  side.  Winnington  looked  round. 
For  the  first  time  Lathrop  saw  through  Mark's  grey 
eyes  the  generous  heart  within  —  unveiled. 

"  Splendid  !     Arc  you  hurt  ?  " 

"  Only  scorched  and  scratched.  Give  me  another 
job!" 

"  Come  along  then." 

And  thenceforward  the  two  worked  side  by  side,  like 
brothers,  in  the  desperate  attempt  to  save  at  least  the 
Great  Hall,  and  the  beautiful  rooms  adjoining;  the 
Porch  Room,  with  its  Chatham  memorials ;  the  libra^'y 
too,  with  its  stores  of  seventeenth-century  books,  its 
busts,  and  its  portraits.     But  the  flames  rushed  on  and 


392  Delia  Blanchflower 

on,  with  a  fiendish  and  astounding  rapidit3^  Frag- 
ments of  news  ran  back  to  the  onlookers.  Tlie  main 
staircase  had  been  steeped  in  petrol  —  and  sacks  full 
of  shavings  had  been  stored  in  the  panelled  spaces  un- 
derneath it.  Fire-lighters  heaped  together  had  been 
found  in  the  Red  Parlour  —  to  be  dragged  out  by  the 
firemen  —  but  again  too  late !  —  for  the  fire  was  al- 
ready gnawing  at  the  room,  like  a  wild  prowling  beast. 
A  back  staircase  too  had  been  kindled  with  paraffin  — 
the  smell  of  it  was  everywhere.  And  thus  urged,  a  very 
demon  of  fire  seemed  to  have  seized  on  the  beautiful 
place.  There  was  a  will  and  a  passion  of  destruction 
in  the  flames  that  nothing  could  withstand.  As  the 
diamond-paned  windows  fell  into  nothing-ness,  the  rooms 
behind  shewed  for  a  brief  space ;  carved  roofs,  stately 
fireplaces,  gleaming  for  a  last  moment,  before  Time  knew 
them  no  more,  and  all  that  remained  of  them  was  the  last 
vision  of  their  antique  beauty,  stamped  on  the  aching 
memories  of  those  who  watched. 

"  Why  did  you  let  her  come !  "  said  France  vehe- 
mently in  Lady  Tonbridge's  ear,  with  his  eyes  on  Delia. 
"  It's  enough  to  kill  her.  She  must  know  who's  done 
it!" 

Lady  Tonbridge  shook  her  head  despairingly,  and 
both  gazed,  without  daring  to  speak  to  her,  on  the  girl 
beside  them.  Madeleine  had  taken  one  cold  hand. 
France  was  torn  with  pity  for  her  —  but  what  comfort 
was  there  to  give !  Her  tears  had  dried.  But  there 
was  something  now  in  her  uncontrollable  restlessness  as 
she  moved  ghost-like  along  the  front  of  the  spectators, 
pressing  as  near  to  the  house  as  the  police  would  per- 
mit, scanning  Q\ery  patch  of  light  or  shadow,  which 
suggested  to  those  who  followed  her,  possession  by  some 
torturing  fear  —  some  terror  of  worse  still  to  come. 


Delia  Blanchflower  393 

Meanwhile  the  police  were  thinking  not  only  of  the 
house,  but  still  more  of  its  destroyers.  They  had  a 
large  number  of  men  on  the  spot,  and  a  quick-witted 
inspector  in  charge.  It  was  evident  from  many  traces 
that  the  incendiaries  had  only  left  the  place  a  very  short 
time  before  the  outbreak  of  the  fire;  they  could  not  be 
far  away.  Scouts  were  flung  out  on  all  the  roads ; 
search  parties  were  in  all  the  woods ;  every  railway  sta- 
tion had  been  warned. 

On  the  northern  side,  the  famous  Loggia,  built  by  an 
Italianate  owner  of  the  house,  in  the  first  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century  —  a  series  of  open  arches,  with 
twisted  marble  pillars  —  ran  along  the  house  from 
front  to  rear.  It  was  approached  on  the  south  by  a 
beautiful  staircase,  of  which  the  terra-cotta  baiustrad- 
ing  had  been  copied  from  a  famous  villa  on  Como,  and  a 
similar  staircase  gave  access  to  it  from  the  garden  to  the 
north.  The  fight  for  the  Great  Hall  which  the  Loggia 
adjoined,  was  being  followed  with  agonised  anxiety  by 
the  crowds.  The  Red  Parlour,  with  all  its  carvings 
and  mouldings  had  gone,  the  porch  room  was  a  furnace 
of  fire,  with  black  spars  and  beams  hanging  in  ragged 
ruin  across  it.  The  Great  Hall  seemed  already  totter- 
ing, and  in  its  fall,  the  Loggia  too  must  go. 

Then,  as  every  eye  hung  upon  the  work  of  the  fire- 
men and  the  play  of  the  water,  into  the  still  empty 
space  of  the  Loggia,  and  illumined  by  the  glare  of  the 
flames,  there  emerged  with  quiet  step,  the  figure  of  a 
woman.  She  came  forward :  she  stood  with  crossed 
arms  looking  at  the  crowd.  And  at  the  same  moment, 
behind  her,  there  appeared  the  form  of  a  child,  a  little 
fair-haired  girl,  hobbling  on  a  crutch,  in  desperate  haste, 
and  wailing  — "  Father !  " 

Delia  saw  them,  and  with  one  wild  movement  she  was 


394  Delia  Blanchflovver 

through  the  cordon  of  pohce,  and  running  for  the  house. 

Winnington,  at  the  head  of  his  salvage  corps,  per- 
ceived her,  and  ran  too. 

"  Deha  !  —  go  back !  —  go  back !  " 

"  Gertrude  !  "  she  said,  gasping  —  and  pointed  to 
the  Loggia.  And  he  had  hardly  looked  where  all  the 
world  was  looking,  when  a  part  of  the  roof  of  the  Hall 
at  the  back,  fell  suddenly  outwards  and  northwards,  in 
a  blaze  of  flame.  Charred  rafters  stood  out,  hanging 
in  mid  air,  and  the  ilames  leapt  on  triumphant.  At  the 
same  moment,  evidently  startled  by  some  sound  behind 
her,  the  woman  turned,  and  saw  what  the  crowd  saw  — 
the  child,  limping  on  its  crutch,  coming  towards  her, 
calling  incoherently. 

Her  own  cry  rang  out,  as  she  ran  towards  the  crip- 
ple, waving  her  back.  And  as  she  did  so,  came  another 
thundering  fall,  another  upward  rush  of  flame,  as  a 
fresh  portion  of  the  roof  fell  eastwards,  covering  the 
Loggia  and  blotting  out  the  figures  of  both  woman  and 
child. 

With  difficulty  the  police  kept  back  the  mad  rush  of 
the  crowd.     The  firemen  swarmed  to  the  spot. 

But  the  child  was  buried  deep  under  flaming  ruin, 
where  her  father,  Daunt,  who  had  rushed  to  save  her, 
was  only  restrained  by  main  force  from  plunging  after 
her,  to  his  death.  The  woman  they  brought  out  — 
alive.     France,  Delia  and  Winnington  were  beside  her. 

"  Stand  back !  "  shouted  the  mild  old  Rector  —  trans- 
formed into  a  prophet-figure,  his  white  hair  stream- 
ing—  as  the  multitude  swayed  against  the  cordon  of 
police.  "  Stand  back !  all  of  3'ou  —  and  pray  —  for 
this  woman !  " 

In  a  dead  silence,  men,  shivering,  took  off  their  hats, 
and  women  sobbed. 


Delia  Blanchflower  395 

"  Gertrude ! "  Delia  called,  in  her  anguish,  as  she 
knelt  beside  the  charred  frame,  over  which  France  who 
was  kneeling  on  the  other  side  had  thrown  his  coat. 

The  dark  eyes  opened  in  the  blackened  face,  the 
scorched  lips  unlocked.  A  shudder  ran  through  the 
dying  frame. 

"  The  child !  —  the  child  !  " 

And  with  that  cr}^  to  heaven, —  that  protesting  cry 
of  an  amazed  and  conquered  soul  —  Gertrude  Marvell 
passed  away. 

Thus  ended  the  First  Act  of  Delia's  life.  When 
three  weeks  later,  after  a  marriage  at  which  no  one 
was  present  except  the  persons  to  be  married.  Lady 
Tonbridge,  and  Dr.  France,  Winnington  took  his  wife 
far  from  these  scenes  to  lands  of  summer  and  of  rest, 
he  carried  with  him  a  Delia  ineffaceably  marked  by  this 
tragedy  of  her  youth.  Children,  as  they  come,  will 
sometime  re-kindle  the  natural  joy  in  a  face  so  lovely. 
And  till  that  time  arrives  Winnington's  tenderness  will 
be  the  master-light  of  all  her  day.  But  there  are  sounds 
once  heard  that  live  for  ever  in  the  mind.  And  in 
Delia's  there  will  reverberate  till  death  that  wail  of  a 
fierce  and  childless  woman  —  that  last  cry  of  nature  in 
one  who  had  defied  nature  —  of  womanhood  in  one  who 
had  renounced  the  ways  of  womanhood:  "  the  child — • 
the  child!  " 

Not  long  after  the  destruction  of  Monk  Lawrence 
and  the  marriage  of  Delia,  Paul  Lathrop  left  the  jNIaum- 
sey  neighbourhood.  His  debts  had  been  paid  by  some 
unknown  friend  or  friends,  and  he  fell  back  into  Lon- 
don literary  life,  where  he  maintained  a  precarious  but 
—  to  himself  —  not  unpleasant  existence. 

Miss    Jackson,    the    science-mistress,    went    to    Van- 


396 


Delia  Blanchflower 


couver,  married  the  owner  of  a  lumber  camp,  and  so 
tamed  her  soul.  Miss  Toogood  lived  on,  rarely  em- 
ployed, and  seldom  going  outside  the  tiny  back  parlour, 
with  its  pictures  of  Winchester  and  Mr.  Keble.  But  - 
Lady  Tonbridge  and  Delia  do  their  best  to  lighten  the 
mild  melancholy  which  grows  upon  her  with  age;  and 
a  little  red-haired  niece  who  came  to  live  with  her,  keeps 
her  old  aunt's  nerves  alive  and  alert  by  various  harm- 
less vices  —  among  them  an  incorrigible  interest  in  the 
Maumsey  and  Latchford  youth.  Marion  Andrews  and 
Eliza  Daunt  disappeared  together.  They  were  not  cap- 
tured on  that  terrible  night  when  Gertrude  Marvell, 
convinced  that  she  could  not  escape,  and  perhaps  not 
much  caring  to  escape,  came  back  to  look  on  the  ruin 
she  had  so  long  and  carefully  prepared,  and  perished  in 
the  heart  of  it  —  not  alone. 

But  such  desperate  happenings  as  the  destruction  of 
Monk  Lawrence,  to  whatever  particular  calamities  they 
may  lead,  are  but  a  backward  ripple  on  the  vast  and 
ceaseless  tide  of  human  efforts  towards  a  new  and  nobler 
order.  Delia  must  still  wrestle  all  her  life  with  the 
meaning  of  that  imperious  call  to  women  which  this  cen- 
tury has  sounded ;  and  of  those  further  stages,  upwards 
and  onwards,  to  which  the  human  spirit,  in  Man  or 
Woman,  is  perennially  urged  by  the  revealing  forces 
that  breathe  through  human  destiny.  Two  days  after 
the  death  of  Gertrude  IVIarvell,  the  immediate  cause  on 
which  she  and  her  fellows  had  wrought  such  havoc,  went 
down  in  Parliament  to  long  and  bitter  eclipse.  But 
the  end  is  not  yet.  And  for  that  riddle  of  the  Sphinx 
to  which  Gertrude  and  her  fellows  gave  the  answer  of  a 
futile  violence,  generations  more  patient  and  more  wise, 
will  3'et  find  the  fitting  key. 

THE    END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


NOV  2  4 1959 
,0„  2  51959 

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RECm  LDURL 

DEC  021988 


^~ 


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